Acquiescence
by MusicChiller32
Summary: Undertaker/OC along with other Superstars. She's a script writer for the WWF/E. He's the most dangerous entity that has ever stepped foot in a WWF/E ring. They've never met...until now...and she has a secret that will forever change the landscape of the Undertaker's life.
1. Chapter 1

**Acquiescence**

Chapter 1

Pushing the glasses up her nose, her fingers flew over the keys on her keyboard, sky blue eyes focused on the screen. Her long black hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck in a bun, a few strands framing her forehead and cheek. It was early morning hours on a Monday and she had a deadline she had to meet. Her boss would not be happy with her if she didn't make it. Never had she missed a deadline and Emery wasn't about to start now. Smirking, she typed even faster on her laptop and nodded, hoping the boss enjoyed what she had in mind for one particular wrestler.

Since 1996, she had worked for the World Wrestling Federation -it was now known as World Wrestling Entertainment- as a creative writer for the company. Emery had worked her way up the ladder until she became the top lead script writer, which only took her 2 years to achieve. Vince McMahon had been ecstatic over the ideas she came up with – the Undertaker having a long-lost brother, for instant. The whole storyline between him and Kane had been her idea entirely. Emery didn't want credit for it though because she was a woman living in a man's world. A man's business.

Vince respected that, setting up a proxy for her, which was a man by the name of Matthew.

His job was to calm the wrestlers down when they didn't like their ideas or storylines, so she never had to deal with any of them directly. It was a sneaky way to do things, but…Emery just wanted to see her ideas come to life on-screen and didn't need any kind of credit or recognition for them. Once she finished a few hours later, with 3 cups of coffee inhaled, Emery dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a Kingdom Hearts t-shirt, her favorite video game franchise, before heading out the door to go deliver her current idea to the boss.

Vince had been the one to suggest she have a proxy. A person with a face to take the 'credit' as lead script writer; someone who could claim the ideas and put in at the meetings with the actual wrestlers. However, she had been adamant that it be a man. He had respected that, knowing not being able to claim the credit was probably hard, but she had also known that no one would take her seriously, not his boys, that was for sure. He could recall many times when her poor proxy had gotten threatened, assaulted a little and knew, if the boys had realized it was this tiny little woman who was giving him these delicious soap opera lines, they'd up their game and try to intimidate her, or worse. So, she posed as just another staffer, and nobody had given her a second glance. Well… maybe some did; she was an attractive woman, but most people never looked past her glasses and graphic t-shirts. Probably a good thing.

"Hello, Emery." He greeted after calling out 'come in'.

"Mr. McMahon."

Emery nodded her head in acknowledgment with a soft smile, never having an issue with her boss. He was terrific and the fact he understood why she wanted a proxy was a lifesaver. It saved her a lot of headaches, that was for sure. Emery was not a confrontational person, not a fighter and only stood a mere 5'7 weighing around a buck and a quarter, if that. She was small, but had a very large, vast mind full of ideas and enjoyed watching them portrayed on television.

"As requested." She handed over the newest idea her devious brain had come up with, sky blue eyes lighting up while he read over the words and waited to receive his input – yes or no.

He had to read it twice, contemplating the potential outcome of letting this one roll. Hell, he had done worse and allowed worse. What was beautiful is Emery had all these great ideas and then, when he'd offer his input, she always found a way to work it in. She always took his suggestions seriously and was invaluable to him.

"Hmm…" Vince finally nodded, beckoning his assistant from her corner and handed it to her. "We're running with this. Make the arrangements."

"Yes sir."

Emery wasn't surprised when Vince handed the script to his assistant, keeping a soft smile on her face. He rarely turned her ideas down, not even the GTV one. Not one of her finer ideas, but nobody was perfect. He ran with it the best he could and some of the things shown were hilarious.

"I know this is a huge risk to take, Vince, but if you want to build new stars, I feel this is the best way to do it." She watched him nod in agreement and left the room, not needing to say much else. Whipping her cell phone out, speed dialing her proxy, Emery informed him there would probably be a very angry Undertaker headed his way before the day was out.

Groaning after getting off the phone with Emery, Matthew wondered why he took this job in the first place and shook his head. Why did he have to take the fall for Emery all the time? Oh wait, that's right, that's what he was paid to do! Emery was a great woman, smart and funny, but some of her ideas were OUT there. Such as this one. Was she insane? He wondered if sometimes she didn't care about the consequences he had to suffer because of her ideas. Sighing, Matthew suddenly dreaded going into work tonight because it was Smackdown! and he knew there would be trouble with Undertaker, thanks to Emery.

* * *

The problem was convincing Taker that this was in the best interest of the company. The man had done a lot for what was 'best for the company', because Taker was usually a company man. However, Taker had also been less than impressed with Bautista. In fact, Vince was pretty sure he had referred to the new guy as 'all show, no substance', with an explanation concerning those muscles being easy targets. Taker probably wasn't going to take this one very easily and Vince sighed, knowing he'd manage somehow.

Vince looked up a knock sounded at his office door a few hours later at the arena, smiling at the sight of Undertaker and squared his shoulders. "Taker, we came up with your next storyline and I think you're really going to like this. It involves you doing something and achieving something you've never done before in the company." At the man's arched black brow, Vince handed over the script. "You will be winning the 2007 Royal Rumble and go onto WrestleMania to be in one of the two championship matches."

The Undertaker, or Mark Calaway, depending on which one he felt like answering to that day, slowly raised an eyebrow as he took in his boss. He had learned long ago, when Vince had that gleam in his beady eyes, good was a relative term. He had been a cornerstone of the WWE/WWF for over a decade; he was recognized as a locker room leader, the judge when there were disputes between the boys and, sometimes, the executioner as well.

"I'm onboard, so far." He agreed, folding his heavily tattooed arms over his chest.

This is where things would get a little tricky.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Now Taker, I know you've always done what's best for business. You've always put the company first, correct?" At the man's curt nod, he continued. "After having a meeting with the lead script writer, we've decided that it's time for the new blood to shine at WrestleMania. What that means is, you will lose at WrestleMania this year against…Batista." Who was the current world heavyweight champion on Smackdown!. Raw had a separate champion since the brands were split. "But you'll still get that Royal Rumble win you never have, so it's a win-win for both of you…"

Mark considered that, his emerald eyes flashing pure venom for a moment before settling back to their normal shade. "And to who, do I owe this _brilliant idea_ to?" He asked casually, planning on beating down the writer. And Vince. And Batista. Sure, he had never won at a Royal Rumble, but to lose his streak to that punk?

"Matthew."

He'd wait and bide his time; Mark did want that Royal Rumble win, but afterwards, Matthew would get his head knocked off his shoulders.

* * *

Winter was her favorite time of the year, but damn was it cold! Emery walked inside the arena, carrying her bag at her side and shook some of the snow off her shoulders. It was nearing Christmas time, just a few weeks, along with the Armageddon pay-per-view event, which she had to finish. There were great matches on the card, the talent was amazing on Smackdown! compared to Raw. Then again, she was biased. Humming under her breath, Emery walked into her office and began setting up for the night, taking her winter coat off to drape it over her chair. She looked up when a knock sounded at her door and smiled at Matthew, who looked apprehensive.

"How's it going?"

"Just tell me why, Emery. Why do you insist on pissing off the wrestlers with these ideas? Do you realize what's gonna happen when the Deadman gets here tonight?" Matthew was TOAST.

"That's for me to know and you to find out. Don't worry, I'm sure Vince smoothed everything over with him and he won't hunt you down." She hoped anyway.

Lies, all lies.

Mark walked into the arena, his hair hanging down around his face. He wore black jeans and a black thermal, his hands covered in his leather biker gloves, boots on his feet and his duffel over his shoulder. He was still not amused, but would bide his time. Obviously, the lead writer, Matthew, had lost his mind and was gay; that was the only explanation because David Batista, while having the look and some moves, was a joke as a wrestler, performer, sports-entertainer, whatever one wanted to call it.

In truth, Emery didn't like David Batista either. She didn't think he had what it took to make it in this business and she'd been around a long time. 10 years, actually. She'd seen the best and the worst – he wasn't in the Undertaker's league. However, it made sense to her to let the new blood go over the veteran. That was how the business worked and why it continued having the insurmountable success it did year after year. Undertaker did put guys over he felt were worthy, but this time it was out of his hands. Matthew voiced his concerns and she listened, but then sent him on his merry way to do her bidding like he was supposed to. It's what he was paid for. When Smackdown! began, she stood up and stretched, deciding to head to the cafeteria for a quick bite to eat.

The problem with people these days, and all these young ones, was while they needed the veterans to help them get over sometimes, they didn't know the struggle anymore. Not of making it, by paying dues and working Indies; those territories were fast drying up and the only opposition these days was some company called TNA. They kept trading that talent back and forth it seemed. WCW and ECW were nothing more than a figment of people's imaginations – though Vince had brought back ECW as one of the three major shows currently going with all of them having different wrestlers. Hell, even OVW was out of business! Vince had consolidated all the major players under his belt; what did he care about those who had been here forever, helping him hold onto what was his company? His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the cafeteria, taking in all the old familiar faces and the newer ones.

"Hey Em, how's it going?" Sandra, the main seamstress in WWE, greeted with a smile, grabbing some food while she had a minute to herself.

Emery had known Sandra for close to 5 years and loved her spunky attitude, smiling back. "It's going. Looking forward to my days off though." She received the same ones – Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays – like the wrestlers off along with the other employees of the company.

"Oh, I hear ya, girl! I can't wait to get home and see my grandbabies!" Sandra was in her 60's and had the most beautiful grandchildren, though she was biased and didn't bother denying it, showing off pictures whenever she could.

"Join me and you can show me some updated pictures of them." They headed to a table near the back and sat down, Sandra immediately whipping the pictures out while Emery ate her salad. "Your grandson into video games?"

"Yes." Sandra didn't sound happy. "Rotting his brain, I tell ya."

Emery didn't comment, just smiled and nodded.

Once he was done taking inventory of the wrestlers, he began eyeballing staff. Technicians, they ran the production booth. Medics, self-explanatory. Some security, headed up by Big Jim; he had tussled a time or two with them. Ring crew and the drivers. Assistants to those higher ups who traveled. Seamstresses, head one included, sitting next to… either she was one of the underwriters meant to fill in the smaller junk, or she was an assistant to a writer. Mark didn't know. She was a dork, that was about all he did know. No Matthew. Well… he began smirking, dork chick it was.

"Look at this one – oh hello, Mark." Sandra had to tilt her head in order to look up into his eyes, her own dark eyes sparkling. "Need another order on tights done, honey pie?" She had absolutely no fear and was probably the only woman that got away with calling the Undertaker 'honey pie'.

Emery had looked away from the picture, thinking Undertaker wanted something from Sandra and continued eating while they conversed. Taking her phone out, she began scrolling through her email to see if anything interesting had popped up. She smirked, seeing her preorder for a game she'd been waiting to come out was finally ready to be picked up once she arrived home tomorrow.

Sandra was THE only person, man or woman, who could call him that and be left standing alive. Anyone else, and he didn't care about gender, would wind up being choked the hell out. "Not right now, darlin'. Soon though. I'm thinking something special for when the Rumble rolls around." His emerald gaze moved from the seamstress to the dork. "Mind if I borrow…?"

"Her name is Emery. You know everyone, how do you not know her name?"

"It's a guy's name."

Mark didn't usually associate male names with chicks. It suited her. Those glasses… he inwardly rolled his eyes when Emery looked up finally, taking in the t-shirt. He flashed her a grin that usually knocked the panties off most woman, though there was a hint of something feral in it and she just blinked. A geek and a dyke, apparently.

What this man didn't realize was Emery had worked for the company a LONG time, longer than Sandra. She didn't associate with very man people though, keeping to herself. Most of her acquaintances called her a hermit, which she had no problem with. Hotels, arenas and home were her usual spots to go besides GameStop whenever a game came out she wanted to check out. Since when did the famous Undertaker want to talk to her? He was an asshole and everyone knew it, but they also respected him for what he'd contributed to the business.

"Emery is actually a boy AND a girl's name, Mr. Calaway." She corrected him with a cool smile, pushing her glasses up her nose again, not taking offense to what he said.

"You're the first chick I know with that name."

Mark knew, had known, a lot of women in his time. He had been quite the whore in his younger days and felt zero shame over it. He wasn't above slutting around these days either, being more cautious and selective about who he took to his bed.

"Anyway, I don't care, DC." He gestured for her to stand up. "I want to talk to you."

"Oh, take a moment you two, I'm being waved at," Sandra frowned as she took in the trunks being waved at her, sighing. "You know, if those boys would just pick a weight and size and stay at it… or wear spandex. I miss spandex, it was so easy and it stretched…" She stood up, taking her photos with her, leaving the two alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

That also worked and he sat down in the newly vacated spot, stretching his long legs out before him. "What's your job again, DC?"

"You will address me by my name if you want me to talk to you, Mr. Calaway." Emery narrowed her sky-blue eyes at him, not believing the audacity of this prick and could only imagine what DC stood for. She didn't want to know or care. "Actually, your time is up because I have a job to get back to. It was so nice talking to you. We really must do this again sometime." Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

Snorting, she turned and walked out of the cafeteria, rolling her eyes. Most men looked right past her because of the glasses and her look, which suited her just fine. It wheedled out the jackasses and kept them away from her. Mark Calaway might've been the locker room leader, but he was also arrogant, pompous and downright childish at times. She'd known him, or of him, far too long to be intimidated by him.

He let her walk out of the cafeteria then he followed, his longer legs easily catching up. "Wrong, sweetheart," Mark caught Emery by the back of her shirt and easily pulled her back. Picking her up by the t-shirt back, he hauled her bodily into the first empty room, shutting the door behind him before setting her down. "I have all the time in the world." He folded his arms over his chest as he stared down his nose at her. "Where's your boss? Matthew? The little bastard has been hiding from me all fuckin' night and I want a word with him."

"Couldn't tell you, Neanderthal." Emery muttered, checking her shirt to make sure he hadn't stretched it too badly with that stunt.

This was her favorite Kingdom Hearts t-shirt and if he so much as tore one thread, she would find a way to hurt him. This man had never approached her like this, not once, and she wasn't about to give away Matthew's location. It looked as though Mark wasn't happy with idea for his WrestleMania match…she immediately bit back a smirk, knowing he had no clue it was her behind the scenes. She was the puppet master for every single idea this man ever had in his career.

"And even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you."

* * *

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

John Bradshaw Layfield sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose at Vince's incredulous look. "I said… the Undertaker spray painted **HAVE U SEEN MATTHEW** ," Pausing, he emphasized that by raising his voice and doing air quotations with his fingers. "On Emery's shirt front, and she is… upset and out in the hallway."

"Oh, sweet Jesus…" His star had issues, lots of them. Taker was respected, sure and when it came to the boys, he was stern, but God help them all if the man was pissed off. "That's… that's all, right?"

No, Mark had used his black pen to autograph her forehead.

 _To DC, XOXO Neanderthal._

To say Emery was NOT happy would've been the understatement of the CENTURY! She regretted writing Neanderthal winning the Royal Rumble, gritting her teeth. When she refused to give Undertaker what he wanted, he'd resorted to bully tactics. High school bullshit she thought she was passed since she'd been bullied heavily throughout school. When JBL gestured her inside Vince's office, Emery couldn't look the man in the eye, but it was clear as day on his forehead.

"Emery…"

"I want him fined, Vince." Her voice was deceptively calm and low, sky blue eyes nothing more than ice behind her glasses. "Fine him…and I want him to stay away from me. Matthew is to deal with the wrestlers, that was the deal."

"I understand." Vince couldn't lose her. She was way too invaluable and had worked here too long to be treated like this. "I will speak with him…and give him a fine."

"Good." She hoped it was a hefty one for the Neanderthal.

"JBL has a t-shirt for you to change into…" Vince said lamely, not sure what else to say to his lead script writer.

Storming out with the WWE logo t-shirt, she went straight to the bathroom to try to scrub away the message on her forehead and shed a few tears in the process, changing her shirt.

* * *

Matthew was well paid for his job. He dressed the part, handled the wrestlers and everything else and got all the credit for Emery's ideas. He also got all the crap spewed at him. When he heard he needed to go calm Taker down and why… he was suddenly considering finding employment in Russia. He had dealt with the man through some bad ideas, according to Taker at least and the last blow-up that came to mind was the Ministry of Darkness angle. Taker had been onboard, up until it came time to align with the Corporation, then he had gotten pissed. He hadn't enjoyed that then and he wasn't going to enjoy this now.

"How… what?"

"The line isn't being changed. You can tell him that."

Bradshaw, or John as he preferred these days, sighed. "I'll come with you." Mark and he went way back. "And I'll give him the fine, and remind him to keep his… hands to himself."

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?" Randy Orton, a third-generation superstar, and one of the fastest rising stars on Smackdown asked, staring wide-eyed at his friend the moment she walked out of the women's bathroom.

"Don't ask." The black ink had barely come off as Emery put a hand over her forehead to hide what it said. "Where is the trainer's?" She needed rubbing alcohol in order to get rid of what was written on her forehead by the Neanderthal.

"Follow me." Randy guided her down the hallway toward the trainer's room, curious to know what her forehead said. "Just let me take a quick look, please?" His blue eyes pleaded.

"No, don't ask again." Rapping on the trainer's door, Emery stepped inside after hearing 'come in' and rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly in front of a bewildered Larry. She rarely visited the trainer's room. "Hi Larry, do you have some rubbing alcohol? I need to…get something off my forehead."

"Yeah, of course." Larry blinked in confusion, procuring it along with a few cotton balls. "Do you want me to…?" He held them both out, gesturing at her head. When Emery affirmed in the negative, he sighed and passed them over, turning his back on her so she could do whatever it was she was doing in peace. "Everything okay?" Very rarely did they have to deal with the writers, unless it was Matthew, but the man was well compensated for the beatings he sometimes got.

"Sure, everything's great." Or would be after she got her revenge against Undertaker, scowling at the message still clear on her forehead.

"Who is Neanderthal?"

Emery felt her cheeks turn a deep crimson while scrubbing the words away hastily, using 10 cotton balls until it was gone. "Nobody. Thanks Larry." She walked out of the trainer's office and suddenly pulled Randy into a nearby dressing room, closing the door behind her. "Neanderthal is Mark 'I just fucked with the wrong writer' Calaway and I need your help to get him back. You game?"

Randy's eyes widened, his jaw on the floor and saw the ice in her eyes, swallowing hard. "What did you have in mind?"

"First of all, how good are your artistic skills?"

When Undertaker walked out of the arena later that night after the show, ready to head back to the hotel, he found his Titan motorcycle, he brought on the road from his personal collection, desecrated. There was a picture of a dick and a head spray painted in neon green on the side.

Under any other circumstances, he would have pegged the culprits instantly as DX – Triple H and The Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels. Those two had been a pain in his backside for years. However, they were also on RAW, and RAW was not anywhere near their current location. Also… he knew who he had a run-in with today and it was a geek in a kiddie t-shirt with stupid glasses. Sighing, Mark dropped to one knee to take in the damage, aware his face was slowly turning a shade of red only the devil wore well. This was his bike. Not a prop owned by the WWE, but his and someone had just signed their own death warrant. Growling, he straddled the seat and immediately regretted it, dismounting just as quick and stared down at it along with his pants.

In his defense, Randy also had to pee.

* * *

After her 3 days off, it was time to head back on the road for the Smackdown! house shows. Instead of a live show, Smackdown! had an extra house show on Mondays and then taped Smackdown! on Tuesdays for it to air on Thursdays. Wearing a Yoshi shirt from her favorite Nintendo brand, Emery made her way inside the building with bag in hand, her black hair braided over her shoulder this time. Immediately, she was bombarded by Matthew.

"What the HELL did you do to the Undertaker?!" He demanded, breathing heavily and could hear the man growling from a distance, shivering. "Emery, he is PISSED. Someone fucked his bike up and he's demanding answers from EVERYONE." Especially him.

"Damn that sucks." Emery didn't sound the least bit sorry or scared, walking past her proxy to head to her office. Nobody would be able to pin the deed on her and Randy because, unlike Taker, she hadn't put XOXO DC with the artwork, though she was tempted to.

It was interesting. Matthew, the lead writer, worked from a room with other writers and his little DC had her own room. There was no name plaque or anything, but she had it. It was also interesting how Matthew ran in and out of that room, always looking around cautiously and Mark knew why. Matthew was avoiding him. They had a run-in earlier in the evening and the little bastard had kicked him in the knee to escape. He was livid. First his bike, then being kicked by a midget in an ugly suit. Bradshaw had already informed him, if he messed with anyone tonight, his fines from last week would seem like a child's allowance compared to this week's.

He had given his friend the finger.

Mark was out for blood.

Technically, Emery didn't have her own office per say, but Vince did allow her to choose from the empty rooms unoccupied. She didn't want to work with the other mindless writers they had hired and made it crystal clear. Most of their ideas were changed to her liking and then sent to Vince. Emery had worked there for 10 long years, had never left and was completely loyal to Vince. Throughout the war with WCW, she was an asset to him and irreplaceable. The only thing she had asked for was a quiet place, alone, where she could work her ideas out and he'd granted her request. Finding a room down one of the empty hallways, and one the wrestlers weren't using, Emery walked in and set up shop for the evening.

"Hey!" Matthew squeaked out.

He had been bringing some of the other writer's horrible ideas to Emery, only to find himself being picked up by the back of his neck. He was a small, wiry guy, so he supposed he was easy to lift. Nevertheless, being picked up like he was a kitten was a blow to his manly pride.

"What?! I didn't do it."

"I know." Mark leaned against the wall, right outside that door, dangling Matthew in front of him. "But I know your little… loner…. assistant did, or she had someone do it."

"I don't know anything about that either!"

"Let's just focus on us, hmm? You and me." Mark held Matthew eyelevel with him, adjusting his grip ever so slightly. "I'm onboard with the Royal Rumble. Thank you, I like this idea."

"Okay? You're welcome?"

"WrestleMania, not so much."

Matthew swallowed hard at the way Taker's voice had gone from friendly and congenial to something dark and sinister.

Emery could hear his dark voice clear as day behind that door and rolled her eyes, not giving a damn what he liked or didn't like. He wasn't the lead script writer, she was! He would put over Dave Batista and deal with it, like he dealt with the Corporate Ministry. Another low blow in her career, though she would never admit it to the Neanderthal. The idea had looked great on paper, but when it actually came to fruition, it fizzled drastically and the Unholy Alliance had been formed with Big Show to save Undertaker's character. Feeling bad for Matthew, Emery decided to go save her proxy before he had his backside handed to him and opened the door, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

"Mind letting him go, Neanderthal? We have a meeting regarding OTHER scripts besides yours." Or she would report him to Vince again.

Matthew blinked when he was actually dropped and scurried into the room past Emery, letting her handle the Deadman.

"Have a nice night, Neanderthal." She slammed the door in his face and got to work with Matthew. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but… why… why did you interfere?" He asked, rubbing the ache out of the back of his neck. "Not that I'm not grateful, because I am… I just… he's scary."

Matthew wondered if she had ever even found out what happened when Taker lost interest in lines, or hated them. That hadn't been an issue since… the Corporate Ministry line, but back then, Taker had gone out of his way to tank the idea, at house shows and live television. He had acted bored, ignored everything around him and it had just been foolish as hell. The man had no regard for others, or how it would affect them.

Mark was not amused and somewhat offended by that little dyke that thought she could order HIM around. Maybe, he'd go bug Vince and see what info he could dig up. Or… maybe he'd just 'sacrifice' her one of these nights, on live television for the world to see. Might be a fun way to mess with Batista once that ball got rolling.

"Because I'm sick and tired of you getting your ass handed to you because of me." Emery spoke quietly, not wanting the Neanderthal to overhear them and held her hand up before Matthew could utter another word. "I know it's your job to handle the wrestlers, but you also need to defend yourself against them. You can't let anyone, not even the almighty Undertaker, push you around. He's been fined heavily for destroying my t-shirt and writing some obnoxious bullshit on my forehead in black pen." At Matthew's wide eyes, Emery folded her arms in front of her chest. "He wanted to know your whereabouts and I told him no, in my own way. Now are these the ideas?" She snatched the papers from him, looking over them and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.

It was going to be a long night.

Letting Emery have the night from him, Mark wouldn't be a week by week trick pony. He'd let her relax. Let her friend Matthew relax and he'd just wait. He had gone to see Vince and the old bastard had told him she was just Matthew's underling, who also preferred to work alone. Helpful as a pet rock that one. He'd focus on this little thing with Kenny boy -Mr. Kennedy- and then David.

"Deadman!"

Speak of the devil, maybe he would kill Matthew after all.

"Man, did you hear the news?! Of course, you probably did, you're the Deadman after all." David grinned, holding the world championship over his shoulder and he was dressed to the nines in a crisp grey suit. "Thanks for this opportunity, I won't let you down. And I'll always be grateful to you for letting me break the streak." He blinked when the man stalked away from him, wondering what he'd said and shrugged, going to do a photoshoot for the upcoming magazine.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Armageddon came and went with Undertaker dominating Mr. Kennedy, after taking a horrible fall off the top of the set. That had made the crowd gasp and hold their breath, everyone wondering if the Undertaker was finished. Only for him to get up, dust himself off and finish the match by annihilating Mr. Kennedy. Definitely a match that went flawless and Emery smiled to herself, enjoying it immensely. They had great chemistry together; she'd known that the moment she'd started writing their feud out. Mr. Kennedy was a rising star on the Smackdown! roster and would continue to excel as long as he kept his cocky attitude in check.

"Hey, come to my dressing room and take a break." Randy said by way of greeting, finding her makeshift office with ease. "London has the new WWE game and we wanna check it out with you." She was a gaming fanatic, knowing everything there was to know about video games.

Shrugging, Undertaker and Mr. Kennedy's match was over, so she didn't see the harm since there was only one other match of the night. "Lead the way, Orton."

Mark shoved back behind the curtain, sweat dripping off of him and flipped his soaked hair back off his head. If Kennedy could just remember that he wasn't a superstar just yet… he'd do fine. The man was cocky as hell. He remembered being that way when he had first started out. Mark had gotten it beaten out of him by the veterans. Lesson learned. He had earned the right to be the asshole he was now. He spotted Randy Orton leading the dyke down the hallway and popped an eyebrow, wondering what that about.

Paul London looked up when the door to the dressing room opened, grinning at sight of the best video gamer he'd ever had the pleasure playing against. "Oh man, you brought the Queen here, eh?"

"Like I wouldn't? I wanna watch her whoop your ass again!" Randy crowed, slapping his friend on the shoulder and got a chair for Emery.

"Why thank you, Randy." Emery sat down and took the controller from Paul, looking at the screen at the new video game the WWE was coming out with. They always got first crack at it and she was excited, sky blue eyes igniting. "Let's do this and I'm gonna pick the lowest ranked person in the game, just to give myself a challenge. And still whoop your ass."

"That would be Hornswaggle then…"

She smirked, choosing Hornswaggle. "Bring it."

The fact that she used Hornswaggles character to beat not only Paul, but himself… and she did it without using cheat codes or anything. "Oh. My. God!"

"Ems, I swear to God, if you ever tell anyone about this… How? How do you do this?" Paul got down on his knees before her, hands clasped up as if praying. "Please – please teach me your ways, I am not worthy!" He started bowing at her.

"Get up, you asshat." Randy laughed, also enjoying playing games, but he was a secret computer game nerd. Emery did that too, it was great. They had their own guild in World of Warcraft.

Ever since he'd been brought back over from Raw -Vince had decided to do it for some reason he still didn't know-, Randy had never been happier. Triple H was the main cat on Raw and nobody would outshine him. Randy had been in his group called Evolution back in 2004 and hated it, thanking his stars when the company decided to put him on Smackdown! only. Then changed their minds by putting him on Raw before bringing him back again. Vince couldn't make his mind up…and he hoped the flip-flopping was done.

"Practice makes perfect, sweet cheeks." She pinched Paul's cheek for emphasis and laughed at his reddened face, kissing the top of his head. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone I kicked your ass playing Hornswaggle."

Her giggles filtered throughout the room, loving both of these guys like they were brothers. That's what she considered them and they treated her like their little sister. They had each other's backs. It was a weird combination, but it worked for them.

"Randy, don't forget our guild has a meeting at midnight tonight." She reminded him, standing up and decided to get back to her room to pack up to go back to the hotel since the pay-per-view was almost over.

"That woman is something else." Paul shook his head, still not believing what just happened. "I even picked the Deadman and she destroyed me!"

"Yeah, that's par for course, you should've seen what she had me to do to Taker's bike."

"Wait… that was you and her?"

"He put his hands on her and… he decided to treat her like she was a kid back in high school. Fuck him."

"Is THAT right?" Mark had been on his way out after a very long, very hot shower and these bozos were talking with the door wide open. When Randy's jaw dropped, he just began laughing.

"Oh… fuck…"

Randy did NOT like the sound of the laughter coming from Taker and swallowed hard, surprised when the man merely walked away from their door. "I gotta warn her." Whipping his cell phone, Randy quickly sent a text to Emery to get the hell out of the arena before it was too late, his fingers flying over the buttons.

Paul still couldn't believe they had actually been the culprits behind spray painting the UNDERTAKER'S motorcycle.

After reading the text message, Emery felt like strangling Randy and couldn't believe he'd outed them both! It didn't matter. Undertaker would've found out sooner or later and, besides, he deserved it after destroying her favorite t-shirt AND writing on her forehead. He'd manhandled her, bullied her and…Emery gritted her teeth, swinging her laptop bag over her shoulder and left the building, heading to her rental. It was no surprise to find the Neanderthal waiting for her, straddling another bike no less and it was right in front of her vehicle so she couldn't leave. Great. The look on his face and in his eyes frightened her, but she wouldn't show it and folded her arms in front of her chest, not saying a single word.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but your ride… has problems."

All four tires had been slashed, and not by him. Not that Mark had stopped the hooligans who had done it. He hadn't, just watched and offered his opinion. All four, not just the two they had been intending.

"Looks like you need a lift, DC." They needed to have a chat anyway. "Hop on, sweetheart." It wasn't really an offer so much a command.

"How about not and say I did, Neanderthal?" For some strange reason, being called DC unnerved her and lit a fire inside of her…and she didn't even know what it stood for! "I'll find my own way, thanks."

Emery was not stupid by any means and did not trust this man, not after what she'd done to his motorcycle. Hell, knowing him, he'd probably been the one who slashed her tires and had blamed it on someone else. He was out of his mind to think she would accept a ride from him, running her black painted fingernails over her forehead where he'd written that lousy message into her skin. Figuring she'd say that, Mark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dismounting, he walked up to her, took her bag and tossed it behind him. Something expensive sounding made an odd noise from her bag.

"Hope that wasn't important." He said flatly, next picking her up by her side and carried her under his arm towards the bike. "I wasn't really giving you options, sweetheart. You'll ride with me, we'll sort out our issues and hopefully… we'll be the best friends ever afterwards, hmm?"

"What the fuck, Calaway?!" Emery shouted, squirming against him and tried to break free, but it was no use. This man didn't know the meaning of the word 'no'. Trying to get off the bike, he'd made sure she didn't move by mounting her IN FRONT of him on it and scowled darkly. "You just broke my laptop! Let me off here right now!" He'd scooped her bag up to slide it in one of his saddlebags, while holding her against him under the arms. She would more than likely have bruises by the time all was said and done. "You-" Her words were cut off as he took off from the parking lot.

Emery just prayed she survived this hellacious ride, her breathing now erratic along with her heart pounding vigorously against her chest. Hellacious was a great term because he went out of his way to make her scream. Mark expertly weaved in and out of traffic at breakneck speeds, frowning when he realized she wasn't screaming. It wasn't until he finally stopped for a red light that he realized she was pretty clammy looking, but… exhilarated. This broad was crazy! There was no way she enjoyed this, was there? Green light came on and they did it all over again.

"Are you having… fun?"

At first it was scary, but then her adrenaline cranked up and Emery enjoyed the speed, the wind whipping across her face. When he asked her if she was having fun, all she did was smirk up at him and shut her eyes again as he took off down the road at top speeds, pushing his motorcycle to the limits. Emery loved rollercoasters and speed, anything to make her heart leap in her throat. She'd leaned back against Undertaker while he weaved in and out of traffic, knowing it was the only way to ride or else she would've gone flying off the bike. Her broken laptop was temporarily forgotten along with her anger at this man, reaching up to push her glasses up on her nose so they didn't fly off her face.

Well this wasn't exactly what Mark had planned when he made the decision to take DC for a ride. He had planned on scaring her until she either broke down screaming, crying for him to stop or she passed out from fear and terror. Instead… she was enjoying this. Maybe it reminded her of some video game and she was a secret adrenaline junkie. She was that kind of chick, right? He was pretty sure a lot of her shirts had video game crap on them. What would have under usual circumstances been a 20-minute ride to the hotel, everyone seemed to be staying at, took over an hour and when Mark finally came to a stop in the parking lot, he could see she had relaxed quite a bit against him.

"Wow…" Emery let out a breathless laugh and sat up a little, never experiencing a motorcycle ride quite like THAT one.

Her father owned a motorcycle and had taken her for a ride, on occasion, when she was younger, but he sold it after a horrible accident. She had missed it, the adrenaline rush, but it was NOTHING like she'd just experienced. Looking up at the hotel, the smile deteriorated from her face as Emery felt Taker's big body directly behind her still. He hadn't moved and his arms prevented her from dismounting.

"I really hope you plan on replacing my laptop if you broke it with your temper earlier." She said scathingly, resting her hands on her jeans. "And we will never be friends, bank on that, Neanderthal."

"Well, aren't you a little spitfire…" He rumbled, sounding darkly amused, which he was. "If your laptop is broken, you can bill me. I'm sure you'll go running to McMahon anyway, so tell him to add it to my tab." Mark dismounted and reached for her, pulling her off his motorcycle a little harshly. "I want you to talk to Matthew. I'm not losing at WrestleMania to Batista." This was what all this was about. "Any other time, sure, but not at that show and not to that jackass."

"Are you serious right now?" Emery felt like socking him in his arrogant face, gritting her teeth. He had chased her down, had someone slash her tires, destroyed her favorite t-shirt and printed in black ink on her forehead because of the storyline? "No." At his narrowed green eyes, Emery shook her head defiantly. "The line is set in stone and there's no changing it." She could if she wanted to, but now she wanted to make this bastard's life a living hell. "Sorry you wasted your time. Now give me my bag. And don't worry, I WILL be billing you."

No changing it huh? She was really going to make him do this the hard way? Mark had absolutely no problem going out there on the biggest stage of them all and beating David Batista to a bloody pulp. He had yet to be defeated at WrestleMania and sure as hell wasn't starting now, not with this guy.

"Fine." He took her bag out of the saddlebag and dropped it, hard, at her feet. If that laptop hadn't been broken, it was now. "Have at it, DC."

"You are an asshole."

The laptop wasn't a regular one either. It was the most expensive one out there to date – an Alienware. It was designed for gaming nerds like her and could more than handle any games she downloaded onto it. This one in particular had cost her over $3,000 and she planned on reporting him to Vince, again.

"So what? A line pops up that benefits the rookie, not the vet, and you're going to treat the writers like shit for it? Are you 5?" Snorting, she hoisted her bag over her shoulder, shaking her head sadly. "You're supposed to be the locker room leader, someone people look up to, not a bullying childish asshole, Neanderthal. I've been around this company a long time – probably longer than you realize and I've never seen someone act the way you have simply because they don't like the line they're given. Guess what, sometimes you gotta do shit you don't want to. So maybe you should put the company FIRST instead of your pride for a change, yeah?"

Who in the hell did this bitch think she was? Put the company first? Mark had, as a general rule, always put the company first. Over his family. Over his career. Come on, the breaking character crap? In sweats? That was him taking one for the team. Losing to some grade A assholes to put them over, or sell seats? He had been here for years, helping Vince keep things floating and hadn't even bothered asking for more, well-deserved, shots at the main title! The only thing he did care about, would fight over, was WrestleMania so… yes, he would act like a 5-year-old and Emery had just made herself an enemy.

When he didn't say a word to her, Emery took that as the end of the conversation and walked into the hotel, the anger radiating off her small body. She didn't care if what she said was out of line to the Undertaker, he was a bullying asshole and needed to be knocked down a peg or three. Once she arrived in her hotel room, Emery immediately unzipped her laptop bag and pulled the remains of her Alienware out, growling loudly.

That bastard really broke it!

Sky blue eyes iced over as she surveyed the damage, wondering if there was a way to salvage any parts and decided to take the hard drive out. She could plug it into her new one, which would be overnighted as soon as she made the phone call to Dell. Then Emery made a call to Randy, waiting for him to answer and informed him something happened to her laptop, so she wouldn't be able to make their WOW meeting. When he asked what it was, she told him not to worry about it and hung up, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Mark had absolutely zero fucks to give about her personal property. She had his classic motorcycle vandalized; getting that taken care of and the paint and finish redone hadn't come cheap. For some little mouse, who had apparently been lurking in the shadows all these years, she sure was a mouthy, arrogant little bitch. Too bad about her being a dyke though, he thought broodingly, as he poured himself a drink. Standing at the bar in his hotel room fresh out of the shower and as naked as the day he had been born. He bet she was like every other little geek out there, down for hot, crazy sex. And he wasn't above making someone emotionally attached and vulnerable to him to get his way.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"So, are you going to tell me what happened last night? I saw your rental." Randy demanded, sitting at the table in the hotel restaurant and popped a piece of bacon in his mouth.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Emery stabbed her pancakes like that had personally done her wrong, scowling at the thought of her precious laptop being destroyed by that Neanderthal. "I'll have a new laptop hopefully by the end of the day today…if they can get it shipped fast enough."

"Well, you weren't attacked or anything, right?" Randy eyeballed her skeptically and growled when she slapped his hand for trying to steal another piece of bacon. "Hey, I'm hungry!"

"Then order your own food."

"But I like yours better." Randy argued, his hand darting forward again. He quickly pulled it back with a howl of pain when he got the business end of her fork in the top of his hand, cursing under his breath. "Fine – fine." He gestured for another plate, having finished his first quite some time ago. Randy was a big man and needed more than those tiny servings they called the 'house special', which was ridiculous. "Was it Taker?" He asked quietly, knowing the man had overheard him and Paul and probably wasn't pleased at all. That was their bad and he felt like a jackass.

Emery didn't keep anything from Randy, trusting him explicitly and nodded, stabbing some eggs to pop in her mouth, chewing slowly. "That prick forced me on his bike last night and thought he'd bully me into talking to Matthew about the scripts. If he only knew the truth of the situation." Randy was the ONLY one in the entire company, besides Vince and a few others, who knew she used a proxy for the scripts and most of the ideas were actually hers. "I told him no, I'm not talking to Matthew and he needs to start acting his age and put the company first." At Randy's wide eyes, Emery giggled softly and popped more eggs in her mouth. "I'm not backing down just because he's the almighty Undertaker. Though, I do feel bad for Matthew…"

"Yeah, no shit." Matthew was going to wind up eating dirt when Taker put his ass in the grave, that poor little bastard. "You… you told him to put company first?" Randy could only imagine how that had gone over, shaking his head and sighed, balling up his fist. "He can't keep harassing you, Em." Maybe he should have words with the Deadman, swallowing hard. He could hold his own and had faced Undertaker at WrestleMania a few years ago. "Why don't I start walking you out at night?"

"I just don't understand why NOW he's coming after me, targeting me." Emery's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, pursing her lips together. "Do you think Matthew told him?" Randy shrugged in response; of course he wouldn't know the answer to that question. "I'll kill him. I'll kill that little asshole if he opened his mouth after all this time."

Vince paid him WELL to be her figurative beating post. It was awfully coincidental how Taker suddenly targeted her out of the blue. He hadn't come after her with the Corporate Ministry angle or any of the other ridiculous ideas she'd had for his character over the past 10 years.

"I think it's time I had a chat with my proxy."

"Good idea, but also… you've purposefully let yourself be seen as just an underling, right?" Randy hadn't been around anywhere near as long as she had, but she had told him enough. "Another writer, not THE writer. Also, this is WrestleMania, he's never lost one, has he?" When she shook her head, he sighed. "Yeah… he probably thinks by targeting you, Matthew will change his mind or something." Except it wasn't Matthew who made those calls.

"He can target me all the wants, it's not gonna change what goes down at Mania. The line is written, signed and sealed by Vince. There's no way he'll change his mind now. The only way Taker walks out of Mania winning the title from Batista is if he jumps script. And I don't even think he's stupid enough to do that." Emery said confidently, not seeing the hesitance in her friend's eyes. She could be very vindictive when she wanted to be and, after what that Neanderthal had done to her and her belongings, she considered his payback at its finest. "I'll handle it, don't worry. Now, tell me what happened in the meeting last night."

Putting aside his thoughts about the Undertaker and the Phenom definitely about to be breaking lines and saying fuck all to scripts, he dived into recounting the Guild meeting she had missed. They were dorks, and he really didn't care. He was a closet dork, sort of, but it was nice having someone to pal around with on the road who was just as big a World of Warcraft player as him.

"Raid, tonight. We can rent you a laptop if we need too."

"Shouldn't be a problem. I can just borrow Paul's laptop if anything." It wasn't the first time she did and wouldn't be the last, especially if Taker kept pursuing her and this war they were in. "We got plenty of gold and shit, right?"

At his nod, Emery's sky blues lit up wickedly, rubbing her hands together and finished her breakfast. Good, there'd been a guild they'd been at war with, trolls of all things, and it was time to wipe them off the map. They had stolen a great deal of their treasure, so Emery and Randy would be out for blood tonight since they were the emergent leaders of their guild. It would be fun to watch the trolls get blown up and dismantled.

"I'm riding with you today to the next area." Emery didn't bother asking, walking out of the hotel with Randy and her belongings in hand, texting Paul to see if she could borrow his laptop until her new one arrived.

As if he had a problem with her riding with him. He'd prefer it actually, now that Taker was acting like some schoolyard bully and knowing what he did of the guy. What he had heard whispered in the showers, it could and probably would escalate. Sighing, Randy ran his fingers along his scalp, keeping step with her, even as she texted with Paul.

* * *

"Um, we have a big problem, Em." Alison, one of the creative writers, announced the moment Emery and Randy walked into the arena.

"Okay, you need to calm down and breathe, Aly. Then you can tell me what's going on." Emery waved at Randy as he jogged off down the hallway, knowing he wasn't needed for this conversation.

"Nobody can get a hold of Matthew. I've tried calling and texting him all day, but no dice." Alison looked worried, her brown eyes filled with concern over their fellow coworker and friend. "He's the one who gives the approval on all of the scripts…"

"Relax, I'll handle it." The writers often came to her, when Matthew did one of his disappearing acts, and she had a pretty good idea why he was nowhere to be found. "Walk with me and tell me what the problems are." They headed down the hallway together as she listened to Alison, nodding or shaking her head for approval or denial.

Sighing, Alison began recounting everything going on tonight with the scripts. The major problem was the fact that the Undertaker had come in with a smirk and Matthew was missing. So naturally, everyone was assuming that Matthew was dead, his body buried somewhere in a million tiny pieces. Then there were so many tiny issues and usually Matthew handled those, right? She began unloading on Emery, feeling close to tears and ready to tear her hair out.

Emery had to wonder if Alison was cut out for this job because the poor thing looked ready to have a complete mental breakdown. "I want you to go take a Xanax, tell Larry you need one and then I want you to chill out. Don't worry, I got everything handled." She assured the woman, patting her back and gestured her to the trainer's, knowing Larry kept anti-anxiety medicine on hand for the rookies with first matches.

Stopping by to retrieve the laptop from Paul, Emery promised to take care of it and have it back to him tomorrow, just waiting for her Alienware to arrive. Once she was set up in an empty room, Emery began looking through the papers and scribbled notes Alison handed off to her. None of this would be happening; she would be changing every single thing and snorted in disgust, wondering where the hell Vince found these people. All the while, she tried getting a hold of Matthew, but his phone kept going straight to voicemail.

Matthew had finally been found by Taker and, when he had refused to change the line going into WrestleMania, he had gotten tossed into the trunk of his rental, minus his phone. Taker had been 'kind' enough to pop some air holes for him, but that was about it. He was DONE with this job. Emery was a cunt, doing this. She knew he took so much hell for her ideas and had even gotten his backside handed to him a few times, but never once had she volunteered to step up and claim her work. Sure, he was well paid, but enough was enough. He was done. If he had to take the beatings and the credit, then he wanted the actual job. In that trunk… evil ideas began to form.

* * *

"There a reason 'DC' is spray painted on your door out here, Emery?"

Her head snapped up, looking at Tom, who was another writer on the team and frowned, standing up to see what he was talking about. "That son of a bitch…" In deep purple spray paint, the letters DC were painted on her door for everyone to see. "I really gotta find out what that stands for…" She grumbled, rubbing the back of her neck and waved Tom off dismissively.

"What does DC stand for? Dick Chick?" Tom groaned when she kicked him in the shin and hopped on one foot, holding his shin with the other hand. "It was a JOKE, Em!"

"Not funny." Undertaker would PAY for this!

That was all him because Mark was an asshole that way. Doubly so, Matthew was in the back of that rental and he began laughing his backside off when it was towed. Watching from the top of the building where he had come to ignore everyone while he considered the fine he had received. It was pretty hefty. Apparently, DC, or one of her friends, had tattled to Vince.

At the next area, which was Sunday, Emery decided to pay the Deadman back and found his dressing room with ease. The word DEADMAN was in black letters on the door was a dead giveaway. Nobody was here yet; Emery had come earlier and pulled the neon green spray paint out of her bag. The security was on the grounds, but hardly any were in the building. Quickly, Emery spray painted the word **NEANDERTHAL** in capital letters, a smirk curving her lips and made sure his door sign was destroyed by spraying over it completely. She left the arena with the evidence in tow, tossing it in a nearby garbage can along with the black gloves and went to go grab her laptop, which had been shipped to this location. It was currently waiting for her at the local post office.

The problem was… not everyone in the building was as educated as the nerdy bitch and a lot of guys didn't even know what the hell that five-dollar word meant. She would have been better off putting CAVEMAN up there.

That was where Paul came in. When he heard people asking what the hell a Neanderthal was… his prankster side kicked in and he snuck into the office. He found an outdated computer and used it to make little posters of the Undertaker's face with **NEANDERTHAL** on it along with the definition. Those got passed out.

Now Mark was pissed.

"You didn't, please tell me you didn't…" Emery couldn't hold back her laughter, holding the flyer in her hand with wide sky blues, shaking her head at her friend. "I can't believe you did this!"

Paul beamed proudly kissing the top of her head. "I figured you'd enjoy that." He would do anything for Emery, thinking of her as a little sister and he was annoyed the Deadman had started bothering her. Randy told him everything that'd happened and it was time for some payback.

"I'm going to put this on the wall in my room and every time I look at it, I'm going to smile." She kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Paulie, I owe you one." She walked out, laughing softly and did exactly as she said she would once she found her room for the night. Not even an hour later, the door was tossed open and an irate Undertaker stood in the doorway. "Do you mind? SOME of us are working, Neanderthal."

"You call this working?" He growled, holding a stack of those posters in his clenched fist. "This isn't fuckin' working, Emery, this is being a mega cunt."

He had found them everywhere. Taped to walls. His doors. Even in his goddamn bag! Someone had actually gotten into his personal belongings to put those there. When he had taken his bag out to his motorcycle for safekeeping, because he wasn't about to have his stuff messed with, Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a very long sigh.

"They were taped all over my motorcycle." Work, indeed.

Paul had done quite a number apparently and that made her grin, unable to wipe it from her face. "Actually," She paused, turning her new Alienware laptop to face him, which showed the scripts she was working on. "I'll admit, I spray painted your door just like I know you spray painted mine. But I didn't have anything to do with the flyers. Do I know who did it? That's for me to know and you to find out, Neanderthal." Emery shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against her chair and folded her arms in front of her chest. "I guess I'm not the only one who thinks you're a bullying asshole, huh?"

"You're cute, precious, real cute. I don't think you can keep using that little poor me, being picked on bullshit anymore. You and your pals are just as bad as I am." Mark eyed the fliers. Yes, she was doing tit for tat and then crying out 'help, I'm being bullied'. He advanced on her, pushing her, with his chest, back until she was against the wall. "If I were you, I'd stop while you still have your head, DC."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"And what if I don't? Tell you what, I'll stop when you stop. I'll stop calling you Neanderthal when you knock this DC shit off, whatever the hell it means, and start calling me by my NAME. Emery, in case you forgot it, jackass." Defiance shined through her icy sky blues while staring up at him, though her heart rate had picked up a little when he advanced on her. "You. Don't. Scare. Me. Neanderthal." With every word she said, she poked his chest with her finger and smiled sweetly at him as his face turned a bright shade of red. "So, I highly suggest you leave me the hell alone and take your business to Matthew. Because I'm not helping you." Maybe she was signing her death warrant mouthing off to this giant, but he had angered her to the point where she didn't care about the consequences.

"Hey bitch, you hard of hearing? I did use your name, Emery." She must've had shit between her ears because he had just said it right after coming in the door. Emery he was also provoking him like no one had before. "You're mouthy and you're cocky. You're one of those little broads who thinks her shit doesn't stink and everyone else is wrong." He knew the type. She just happened to have weird glasses and stupid shirts to go with the attitude. "Nothin' a good old-fashioned, passionate ass whipping won't take care of, Dork Chick." He was just the man to deliver it, too.

"No, that would be YOU. You think you're right simply because you don't like what's happening with your character and you feel you need to change it by being vindictive, hurtful, and borderline abusive. Mouthy and cocky, thinking the world revolves around you and shines out of your ass. I got news for you, Deadman, it DOESN'T. I'm not gonna let you push me around." So that's what DC stood for…Emery found it to be a compliment and smiled, pushing her glasses up on her nose. "And thank you, I'm damn proud to be a Dork Chick. Might even put that on a t-shirt and wear it one of these days." Oh wow, his face was turning even redder. "The truth hurts, doesn't it, Mark? Now if you don't mind, I have work to do and you're wasting my time."

The more she spoke, the redder his face grew, but he was also changing their positions while she shot off at the mouth. She was so sure of her place, of herself and her belief that she was protected. By the time he flipped her over his knee, it was too late.

"You're welcome." He said, replying to her 'thank you' and slapped her ass, making sure to get both cheeks evenly. Repeatedly. She wouldn't be sitting down tonight.

Now any normal woman would've been upset by having their backside cracked like a child, but not Emery. She started laughing, openly laughing at the Undertaker while he continued smacking her backside. It wasn't until he shoved her off his lap and to the floor that she looked up at him with glittering sky blues, an evil smirk curving her lips.

"Was that supposed to teach me something? Because that felt damn good, actually." She laughed harder when his face turned into a tomato and actually dropped to her knees, holding her side with tears stinging her eyes. It hurt since she hadn't laughed his hard in a long time.

What the hell was wrong with this chick? She liked it? Did she? Because usually, people who liked their backsides paddled, didn't laugh; they moaned and he wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling right now besides confused. His hands knew what they wanted to do and wanted to wrap themselves around her scrawny little neck and strangle her until she recited the dialogue from that stupid game on her shirt backwards.

"You're fucked up, lady." Mark snarled, his low baritone flat. "You touch my shit again, or put up anymore posters, and I'm going to bury your ass in someone's backyard." If she left him alone, he'd just… stay away.

Crazy was like STDs – catching.

"I didn't touch your shit. Do you need to clean YOUR ears out now? I told you, I didn't do the flyers. I did the spray painting on your dressing room door and your bike because you decided to be an asshole and destroyed my t-shirt, my expensive Alienware laptop and wrote in BLACK INK on my forehead." Emery stood up to her feet, cracking her neck and planted her hands on her hips. "Maybe if you would've – I don't know – treated me with a little more respect and asked me NICELY, I might've considered helping you out with Matthew. But since you wanted to be a bullying asshole, well…you reap what you sow in this world, don't you?" Walking around to sit down behind her desk, Emery folded her hands on her desk and stared at him coolly.

"I'm sorry, the first time I actually spoke to you, I shouldn't have called you DC." He said finally, staring at her and just shrugged. "But, that aside, I wasn't an asshole to you then; I was just straightforward." That was his manner. "You're the one who dismissed me after telling me off for not using your… girl's name." Mark remembered that quite well. "All I wanted to do was talk to you and, instead, you got on your sarcastic little high horse. If you would've just slowed your roll…" And not been a bitch, he probably wouldn't have turned her forehead into a graffiti wall. "Remember that, sweetheart, you reap what YOU sow." He mockingly bowed to her before walking out. If she'd crawl back underneath her weird little rock, he'd just forget all about her.

If not… backyard burial.

If Mark Calaway knew what was good for him, he would leave her alone and deal with whatever lines she came up with for his character. Shaking her head, she opened her laptop and began typing again, unable to focus however. Her backside was burning, no doubt it would be bruised, but it didn't bother her he'd done it. Emery was weird – a dorky chick – and also an adrenaline junkie. Mark had learned that the hard way by trying to scare her on his bike and then spanking her. Looking at the paperwork on her desk, Emery tried getting her mind focused on work and not the giant Neanderthal that had somewhat rocked her world in his own twisted way.

It had been a very long night for Matthew. He had been found in the trunk of that stupid rental, after it had been towed, and caught a cab back to work. He had made it in time to hear the altercation between the Undertaker and Emery. He wasn't able to see anything, but… it sounded intense and not all that professional at all. Deciding tonight what he was going to do, now… now Taker had cemented it for him. He was done being the gopher, the beating post, all of it. Matthew would start getting what he wanted. That meant just one thing: Emery had to go.

* * *

For the next month, Emery's life had gone from quiet to chaotic and she had no idea why. Someone was going around the backstage area and purposefully angering the Undertaker. The worst part was he thought it was her and it wasn't! She was done with the childish games; she'd gotten her revenge on him for her laptop and t-shirt by spray painting his bike. However, apparently, whoever was doing this to Undertaker had put itching powder in his wrestling tights and messed with his personal belongings.

Emery watched Smackdown! from her makeshift office and saw Undertaker keep pulling at his tights, trying not to seem too obvious about it. She was a very observant person though, sky blues narrowed on the monitor. His bellowing throughout the arena told her clear as day someone had pranked him and she could only pray Paul had stopped his antics. When she confronted her friend about it, Paul swore up and down he had nothing to do with whatever was going on with the Deadman. It confused Emery to no end…and she was getting pretty fed up with the accusations from the Neanderthal, to say the least.

It wasn't long after Mark started being sabotaged that word was Emery also had issues too. He had never paid attention to gossip about those who weren't wrestlers until now, but… he was. Reflecting on it, he scrubbed his balls, trying to get that crap off of him. That had just been embarrassing, having that problem out there in front of an audience. The Undertaker had crotch itch, he groaned and rolled his eyes. This was the second week in a row that particular joke had been used and he was livid. If it was her, or one of her stupid friends, he would kill them all.

"Oh shit." Randy grumbled softly, staring at what used to be Emery's brand new Alienware laptop. It was now just a pile of junk; someone had smashed it to hell and back twice. "Em…"

Gritting her teeth at the sight of her brand new Alienware smashed to pieces, Emery could feel the tears burning her eyes. What the hell did she do to deserve this treatment? This was NOT what Emery signed up for.

"That mother fucker…" She knew exactly who had done it and stormed out of her makeshift office, only for Randy to stop her. "Get out of my way!"

"Whoa – whoa, just think about this for a second, Em, okay? Please? I know you're upset, but confronting the Undertaker is NOT gonna do you any good." Randy could see the fury in her icy blues and swallowed hard, hoping he didn't get a knee to his nutsack for trying to save her neck. "We'll get you another one, just calm down."

"No, fuck this." She was going straight to Vince McMahon himself, fed up with this nonsense and demanding a new proxy since Matthew was incapable of doing his job.

When Matthew was called into Vince's office and then berated for 'not doing his job', he frowned. "What are you talking about? I've been putting out fires all night. The Undertaker is on a rampage, Batista is pissed because Taker won't talk to him about this line, and-" He sighed when he was told to shut up and about Emery's laptop being destroyed. "Another one?" He wiped sweaty hair off his pale forehead, flinching. Another Alienware, those things did not come cheap and the company did not reimburse private property, not when they provided. "Look, I'm sorry her property was vandalized, but that sounds like Taker and I'm not getting in his way anymore. I was locked in a trunk, Vince, and then… then I was towed."

"Oh, right. When was this?"

All he could do was stand there, shaking his head. "I'll handle it."

After ordering ANOTHER laptop, Emery decided to call it an early night before she did something irrational, like destroy Taker's motorcycle the same way he did her Alienware. Did he realize how expensive these things were? Vince wouldn't replace it either because it wasn't company property, which infuriated her further. However, he had written her a check out of his own personal account, one of them, to buy a new one. It didn't come out of company funds and she was grateful, thanking him. It was bad enough she'd already had to shell out for the previous laptop, only for that Neanderthal to destroy it. Rubbing her temples, Emery slid into her rental vehicle and turned the ignition, frowning when it wouldn't start. The car was completely dead.

"What the hell?" Getting out and popping the hood, her jaw dropped at the sight of SEVERAL vital parts that made the car run MISSING. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"Sucks to be you."

Mark snorted, walking right on by her, his bag over his shoulder and in loose fitting track pants. He had shaved downstairs, figuring no hair meant no powder could cling. Yeah, wrong. So wrong and his night had been MADE by visiting the trainer's room for an anti-itching cream, that he then discovered couldn't be used until the open wounds from the scratching had closed. Hell on earth and it was her fault. Or her stupid friends. He spotted Paul London coming, obviously to DC's aid and co-cocked him.

"Stay the fuck outta my way, boy." He growled, handling them when he could tolerate the fire near his balls.

"Cock bite…" Paul groaned, wondering what he had done.

"Yeah, fuck you too, Neanderthal! Thanks for destroying my laptop, AGAIN, and now my rental!" That made him stop in his tracks while she went over to help Paul to his feet.

Paul immediately put her behind him, shielding any onslaught that might be directed at Emery and narrowed his eyes. "What the hell, man?! I didn't do anything to you and neither did she!"

"Paul…it's okay. He's an asshole, who obviously can't let anything go and has to ruin other people's lives." Emery snorted, shaking her head and pulled her friend away from an irate Undertaker. "Come on, let's leave Neanderthal alone with his…issues." He probably had crabs from a ring rat or something, which disgusted her at the mere thought.

Mark hadn't done anything to her lately, not that she would bother listening or believe him, so he seen no point at all in pointing that out. Instead, his acidic eyes narrowed at each word the bitch said. She was probably fucking both Paul London and Randy Orton, that was the only way he could see her still having this job. What the hell did she even do anyway? Service Matthew most likely and he snorted at the idea.

Paul did text Randy about what had happened, including the laptop incident and the rental. Emery was going to wind up broke as a joke if she had to keep shelling out all this money. The Undertaker would find his room service bill in the thousands in the morning. Randy hadn't been amused, but at least, Emery would have a nice meal when she got back to the hotel.

"Whoa…"

Emery blinked at the tray FULL of food waiting for her upon getting back to her room, tilting her head. She didn't order any of this. Frowning, she plucked the card off the top of the tray and raised a slow brow, seeing it was from Undertaker.

"No way. No fucking way would he order all of this for me."

Shrugging, Emery was too tired to question it and rolled the tray into her room, kicking the door shut. Her new laptop would be arriving at the next area the following day. She just hoped WOW didn't kick her off since she'd missed quite a few meetings lately. After a shower, Emery brushed her hair out and settled in for the night, vegging on the delicious food the 5 star the WWE was staying in provided.

Around 2 AM, she finally fell asleep.

The bill Mark was hit with at checkout the next morning made his eyes nearly pop out of his skull. Who the hell ordered T-bones, and wings… wine and beer, onion rings, chocolate cakes, and whatever the hell the rest of this was, off the menu? Hotel food was already overpriced and these were the most expensive items on the damn list! His card was on file and it had been billed; he was less than pleased. Mark had no idea who he had apparently sent it to, but a little wheedling got him a room number. He headed back upstairs, planning on getting his money back, either in cash or flesh.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Unfortunately for Taker, the occupant to that room was already checked out and the front desk had neglected to inform him of that information. Emery was on her way to the next area, in a new rental, and moved her head to the beat of the punk rock band she had blasting through the speakers. She had a mixture of favorites with genres of music, but today punk rock spoke to her. Randy was in the passenger seat and Paul in the back, often traveling with them. They were overprotective of her with everything going on lately, so it was no surprise when both hopped in her rental at 6 AM that morning, not giving her a choice.

"So you do realize, if Taker ever finds out what you did, he will hurt you, right?" She asked, turning the music down and saw the smirk curve Randy's lips.

"How is he gonna find out? You checked out and we're long gone already."

Paul shook his head, deciding to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the peace for the moment.

"Besides… it was good, right? And he's destroyed how much of your shit? And you have to pay for all of that out of pocket, I know you got money but you're blowing through it lately on all this damage he's causing." Randy said very reasonably and fingered his pack of cigarettes, wondering if she'd be upset if he smoked in the car. He usually kept his habit to himself, and outside, but today… today was just one of those days. "He just needs to grow the hell up and deal with it. It's a line and he's blowing everything out of proportion."

"That is true. I only wish he had e-mail; I'd have every gay site, political, all of it… spamming his inbox."

"Roll the window down or you'll have my foot up your ass." Emery ordered with a smile, winking at Paul in the rearview mirror. "You should photoshop his body with a large dick for his head. Because that's exactly what he is – a dickhead." They were rolling and Emery had to calm down before she crashed the car. "Don't worry, I have a feeling things are going to come to a head with Vince, if this shit doesn't stop. Neanderthal thinks I put that itching powder in his gear, or one of you did it, and we didn't. So someone else is targeting him and making it seem like it's my fault." She didn't have a 4.5 GPA for nothing and Emery definitely wasn't born yesterday. Something was going on. "Matthew better get a handle on things or else he's gonna find himself on the unemployment line."

"No doubt, he's supposed to be handling the wrestlers' grievances and shit, right?"

"Yeah and Mattie boy hasn't been living up to the amount of money he's being paid. Think we should put itching powder in his pants or something?"

Paul grinned, suddenly getting an evil idea. "I got something better in mind."

It did, briefly, occur to Randy that being mean to Matthew wasn't a smart idea. The man had taken crap for years, even if he was extraordinarily paid for it, but things had also escalated to a whole new level of jacked. The poor little bastard had been locked in the trunk of a car, for who knew how long, and then towed. He choked on his smoke at the memory. It wasn't supposed to be funny, but it was.

"Maybe we should just talk to the Deadman, clear everything up? He can be professional."

"You should quit smoking weed, it's obviously damaging your brain cells."

"Oh yeah, sure. I'll get right on that." Sarcasm dripped in Emery's voice. "This is the same man who came to my office, after Paul did those flyers, and spanked my ass so hard, I had bruises for 2 weeks."

Deep black, blue and purple bruises that hurt, but Emery also had a high tolerance for pain…and she was sick in the head because she enjoyed it. Someone once told her she had a bit of a dominatrix inside of her and maybe they were right. Who else would enjoy having their ass beaten the way Taker did to her?

"Talking isn't going to fix anything. The ONLY way this ends is if I change the line for WrestleMania and that's NOT happening."

"Okay, so… curious." Randy shifted in his seat so he was staring at Emery. "Why David?"

"Yeah, no shit. He's an asshole, you know that, right?"

Paul already knew he'd never get a chance at that belt, he'd never main event WrestleMania. He was a smaller guy and Vince had a hard-on for his big, burly men. Everyone in the business knew it. He just worked to excel where he could and that was about it.

Randy knew David, well enough to be disgusted by the man. It was probably a good thing Dave had never realized that under those glasses and geek shirts was a gorgeous woman or else he'd have tried tapping her by now.

"He's the world champion right now and Vince told me he was holding the title until or after WrestleMania." Emery honestly didn't think David deserved a WrestleMania main event slot. Randy was more deserving and even Paul, even with his smaller frame. "I had no choice. Vince wanted Undertaker in the championship picture, which is why he's winning the Royal Rumble and going onto Mania to wrestle for the title. Batista is new blood, as much as I hate saying it. New blood needs to make their mark in the business. It won't grow without newer stars rising to the occasion and Taker is a veteran. I don't like it any more than you two, believe me."

"Okay, one last question…" Usually they didn't discuss the lines because that was… not okay. She wrote it, they did it, and that was how business worked. It also helped them to maintain their friendships, not getting personal about business, even if they disagreed with something they were supposed to do. "He's won…" He did the math. "14 WrestleMania's, right, like, consecutively?" There were 2 years he hadn't participated due to injuries in his entire career. "That's a pretty big deal. I think he's going to buck that line of Vince's, and yours."

That… was true and Randy agreed, but didn't say anything. Her job was hard enough without them pointing out the obvious.

"That's between him and Vince then. All I do is come up with the ideas, good and bad, and it's out of my hands after that."

Emery shrugged, knowing it was cemented and Taker would lose at WrestleMania, unless he jumped script. It was a huge possibility at this point. Honestly, she had no idea what she was thinking giving David Batista the win of a lifetime because, not only would he remain champion, but he would also break the Streak. WrestleMania was revolved around the Streak – it was one of the main attractions that brought fans back year after year. All Emery thought at the time was new blood had to win, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized just what a monumental mistake she made with this line.

"Fuck me."

"Yeah, no shit, fuck me." Paul echoed in agreement.

She was a brilliant writer and all, but didn't really understand the wrestlers themselves and, in some of her lines, it had shown from time to time. Most of it was great, but there were those rare occasions where her… lack of understanding came through, like with this one.

"It's a cornerstone of the event, and him losing… I don't think…"

"Shut up, you're not helping." Randy ordered, seeing the look on her face and lit himself another cigarette, taking a deep inhale letting it out through his nose. "It'll be fine, Em. So what if he jumps script? That's not on you, it's him."

I fucked up, she thought, the harsh realization crashing down on her. There was no changing it either, just like the Corporate Ministry line. "Okay enough talking about work, let's focus on something else."

Anything because Emery felt nauseous and leaned her head back against the seat, mentally berating herself for being stupid. Abruptly, the topic switched to video games and what they liked and disliked about the new game the WWE would be selling during WrestleMania time. After dropping Randy and Paul off at the local gym, Emery went to the hotel to check in and get settled. The show wasn't for several more hours and she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Her new laptop wouldn't be in until later that afternoon, so she'd have to find something to occupy her time. Grinning, remembering what she'd brought with her on the road from home, Emery had her answer as she took her key card and headed for the elevator, stepping inside.

Humming, Matthew considered what he was hearing. It was interesting, how things were starting to fall apart backstage because of the Undertaker's future loss at WrestleMania to Dave Batista, of all people. He would never understand that one. Vince was an idiot. Putting Batista over, sure, but at the Deadman's show? Even HE knew better. Emery going with it and writing it out, expecting people to fall in line… he sniggered.

"Well, I'm scheduling you an appointment with my – uh – PA." He said, nodding at Batista himself, who was not happy by the Undertaker's lackluster attention to their upcoming feud. "You can talk to her about this line, maybe you guys can figure something out." He could only imagine how that meeting would play out.

"Why not you?"

"Because I'm busy and it's her job to take notes."

After hours video gaming, Emery felt marginally better, breaking long enough to grab her new Alienware from the post office and set it up. In between loading times, she resumed her playing, ordering some lunch in the process. Randy and Paul would rip her a new backside if she didn't take care of herself. Around 4 o'clock, Emery headed out to the arena in a pair of blue jeans and a Rubik's cube t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. The drive to the arena, Emery kept thinking back to what Paul and Randy said to her during the drive here, groaning. Why was she feeling guilty over this line? Vince wouldn't change it, she didn't think anyway. Maybe talking to the boss about making a last-minute change was a good idea. Sighing, Emery stepped out of her vehicle and grabbed her bag, turning to walk into the arena only to nearly slam into an annoyed David Batista. Great, what now?

"Can I help you with something, Batista?" She asked cordially, pushing her glasses up her nose and smiled tensely.

So this mousy little thing was Matthew's personal assistant and junior writer… huh? He stared down at her, the annoyed expression leaving his face as a smile took over, his brown eyes crinkling as he stepped back to give her some space. David knew well how Taker had dealt with her and he wasn't about to take that route. He was on her side and only benefited from this story arc; this win he was supposedly guaranteed at WrestleMania, so he would play ball with anyone right now.

"Yeah Emery, right?" He took in her Rubik's cube t-shirt, grinning even more. "I have a Rubik's cube lunch pail, it's tin." He said, trying to break the ice and she only blinked at him. "Sorry, I – um –," David scratched the back of his neck. "I collect them." He was a lunch pail dork. "Matthew said I needed to talk to you about this feud with the Undertaker and try to see about making it work." Which was next to impossible as long as Taker was having a bitch fit.

Since when did Matthew send wrestlers to her? Wasn't it HIS job to be her proxy and deal with the wrestlers? What the hell was going on? Emery was NOT happy and it clearly showed in her eyes while eyeballing David, seeing he was trying to get on her good side. At least he wasn't a dickhead like Undertaker had been. For now, she would play the proxy, but before the night was out, Matthew would be reported to Vince McMahon.

"Well, as you know, Undertaker isn't happy about this line at all." She didn't blame him. "And I'm really not sure how much help I can be as far as making this line work. That's not really my job, you see. All I do is help the others come up with ideas for the wrestlers and they take the ball and roll with it. Maybe you should direct this to the man you'll be wrestling instead?" Emery suggested softly, walking with him slowly toward the arena entrance. "Matthew should've told you that, actually."

He was a DEAD man.

"Take it to Calaway?" David repeated, then chuckled ruefully. "I did." He turned and showed her the lump on his head, which showed really nice. "He told me to go copulate with myself." That was him rewording it nicely. "I don't know why Matthew sent me to you; something about you might have ideas? I just want the guy to work with me. I'll let him beat my ass all the way up until WrestleMania if he wants, as long as he… well, plays ball."

Not wanting to get into a second war with another wrestler, Emery thought over what he said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Did you tell him that? He could beat you up all the way to WrestleMania?" She knew they had a tag match planned for the pay-per-view No Way Out, but Emery had yet to get together with the lead script writer on Raw's side to hash everything out.

"No, but…I'll do it if it means I win at WrestleMania."

Emery didn't want to inform him that wouldn't be happening due to Undertaker more than likely breaking script in order to win the title and keep his WrestleMania streak intact. "Okay, maybe you should start with that. He might be more entuned with the idea if you told him he could beat you up until WrestleMania time." She highly doubted it, not believing she was being her OWN proxy and sighed. "Or maybe we should go talk to him together…" This was a really bad idea, but David didn't look like he would back down easily.

David stared down at her intently, wondering if that was the best move. "Sweetheart," He stopped and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Emery." She didn't look like someone who would take kindly to an endearment as a nickname, right off the bat, from someone she didn't really know other than professionally. "Emery, I know he's been harassing you and that's putting it mildly. I'm not about to let you get hurt on my behalf."

He'd go toe to toe with the Deadman for her, if he had too. David wouldn't see Calaway bully a woman just because he was a giant dickhead. When she continued giving him what he was now dubbing the 'Emery' look, he sighed.

"If he tries anything, I'll stop him." Deadman wasn't writing on her forehead tonight, or anything else.

Word got around fast.

"Thanks, come on."

Walking together inside the arena, Emery laughed at some joke regarding a Rubik's cube and rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. David wasn't as bad as he was made out to be. The man was polite and had a great sense of humor. He definitely wasn't her type, but at least he treated her with respect unlike the Neanderthal.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Taking a deep breath, Emery knocked on the dressing room door marked **UNDERTAKER** and waited for it to open, the smile immediately vanishing from her face, becoming stoic. "Evening Mark, mind if we come in for a chat? It won't take long." He was lucky she didn't throw every name in the book at him after what he did to her lately.

Mark looked back and forth between the pair, one black eyebrow slowly rising. He had dealt with them both individually, David a bit more recently. That meathead had bothered him during a workout and gotten punched for his trouble. His eyes narrowed and, reluctantly, he held the door open.

"By all means," He growled in a low dark baritone. "Make yourselves at home."

"Look, we just want to talk about the line, okay?"

"What? The one where you pretend you can actually beat me?" Mark snorted, making it quite clear what his thoughts were on that with his tone. David couldn't beat him on his best day, not happening. The idiot had some power moves, sure, but he was all tendons and muscles, nothing in the head.

"Look, would it make you feel any better if you were to kick his ass all over the place until WrestleMania?" Emery didn't flinch when those acidic eyes landed on her, holding her hands up in defense. "Just listen, Mark, please. You two have to learn to work together because, at No Way Out, you have to be a tag team…" They didn't know about this yet because the script hadn't been written.

"What?!"

"What?!"

"John Cena and Shawn Michaels are opponents at Mania just like the two of you are. Once you win the Royal Rumble on Sunday, you will have to choose which title to go after. Shawn will take advantage of that and go after Cena and Vince will decree the two of you teaming up from Smackdown! to face the two of them from Raw. The two WrestleMania title matches all in the same main event. It hasn't been written out yet, but that's what Vince wants to do. As far as Mania goes, I'm sorry, but there's no way of changing what happens. But you can show your dominance and power against Batista heading into WrestleMania." In other words, he can beat the living hell out of the man as long as he made it to WrestleMania in one piece. "Will you at least try to make this work somehow, someway? David is willing to work with you, anything you want to do, as long as you…give him WrestleMania." Boy did she feel nauseous after those words left her mouth!

"You're fucking serious?" Mark looked back and forth between them repeatedly, his face growing grim as he realized they were. "You are, you're fucking serious!"

As far as David was concerned, that was a pretty good deal; it wasn't like Taker would be on the receiving end of those beatings and he already knew Taker would hurt him. Badly. "What?" He demanded, his own voice low and gravelly. "You don't think that's a good deal? Man, this isn't just your show, you know that, right?"

"You're willing to lie down like a bitch, as long as I let you win WrestleMania?" Mark was offended and pissed; it was quite clear in his venomous tone. "Who the hell do you think I am, boy?" His finger just poked David's chest hard. "Beat your ass… and you take it, so long as you can end my fucking streak? You're not even thinking about earning it, you just want it. And you," He rounded on Emery, his finger going for her next. "You think you and your bosses can just hand it to him on a goddamn platter?!"

"Don't you touch her." David was between the pair instantly.

Emery blinked, not expecting David to defend her and swallowed hard, for the first time a hint of fear swirled in her eyes. "We're not handing him anything, Mark." Her voice remained low and quiet, knowing better than to mouth off at him right now. She could KILL Matthew for putting her in this predicament! "He's going to earn every bit of that win at WrestleMania because of all the ass beatings he has coming his way. He IS the new blood though…" Cringing at his eyes narrowing to slits at her, Emery could feel David's entire body tense. "You're the veteran. Veterans are supposed to put new blood over, to pass the torch and this is the perfect opportunity for you to do it to David. Please, just see reason…"

"No." He shook his head, folding his arms over his chest and took a step back before he did knock her head off her shoulders, everything in him tense. "I've put over plenty of rookies, more deserving ones at that." His eyes were filled with barely contained rage, spitting green fire as they narrowed at David. "You aren't but a few years younger than me and I can guarantee you won't even last half as long as I have and will. You're not in this for the love of it, or even the fans; you're in it for the money and the fame. I won't drop my streak, my legacy, to you." That was it, final.

David's face had gone blank, his own eyes hardening at each poisonous word that came out of the veteran's mouth. "You're not immortal, Taker."

"That's where you're wrong. Out. Both of you."

Everything Taker said was the truth, though Emery didn't admit that aloud. For the first time, she could see the mess she'd truly made with this line and hated herself for it, not remembering ever feeling regret with any line she came up with. WrestleMania was part of the Undertaker's legacy, a huge part, and she had written this line out, not taking that into consideration.

"Come on David, he's not going to see reason." They walked out of the Undertaker's dressing room, the door slamming behind them and Emery lowered her eyes to the floor. "I tried. Excuse me." Walking away from David, she went to find a quiet unused room to set up shop and let a few tears fall from her eyes once she was completely alone. "What have I done?" She whispered, covering her mouth with her hand and had no idea how to fix this problem.

David was irate to say the least. He would have done anything Taker had wanted and what he got in return for even suggesting it? Shit on. That's what! He would never admit it, but deep down, he suspected Taker was right and that bothered him too. He knew he'd have to game up because, regardless of what he did, Taker would go out of his way to teach him a lesson or two in the ring from here on out and he groaned.

"Fucked, I'm fucked."

"Yes, you are." Randy said in passing, not having any idea what that was about, but agreed thoroughly.

* * *

"So what's up with you and David?" Paul demanded a few days later, which was Sunday morning and bounced on Emery's bed in her hotel room. "Seriously, I saw you two having breakfast yesterday…"

"What?" This was news to Randy, his blue eyes widening and then narrowing at their friend. "Em, did he…bother you?" He would RKO David if the man didn't leave her alone.

"Actually…" Trailing off, Emery pulled out the Rubik's Cube lunch box David had picked up for her, for no reason at all. "He gave this to me and I invited him to eat with me." She watched both of their jaws drop to the floor. "What? He's not as bad as people make him out to be."

"Uh huh, sure he's not." Paul did NOT want David Bautista near their little sister. "Just don't fuck him."

"Not if he was the last man on earth."

"Good…maybe even then…get off with your finger…"

"RANDALL KEITH ORTON!"

"What?" Randy held up his hands defensively, though his blue eyes were both laughing and serious with a hint of concern. "Em, I know him; we worked together, traveled together and we partied together and that man… is a fucking whore, okay? He likes women, he likes to sleep around." David was a good guy, if one wanted a buddy, but he loved women a little too much and too freely. "Just… if he tries anything, let us know, okay?" So he could RKO the douche.

"Yes master, right away master." Emery remarked cheekily, laughing when he pinned her to the bed and began tickling her. Her glasses were off for the moment since she'd just gotten out of the shower, so everything around her was blurry. "I'm abstinence when it comes to sex, or didn't you know, Orton?" She shoved him away playfully, shaking her head and slid her glasses on, nodding. "Much better, I can see you two clearly and you're not blurry blobs anymore."

"How the hell can you be abstinent?" Paul blurted out, seeing Randy had the same question burning in his ocean blues. "You're a knockout, Em. People may not see it because of the jeans and t-shirts…"

Snapping her fingers, Emery pinched Paul's cheek and grinned. "You figured out my secret identity, damn you!" She smacked his arm and laughed, loving hanging out with her boys.

"Hold on," Randy dragged her upright and removed her glasses before passing them to Paul. He used his fingertips to muss her hair a bit, giving her a somewhat wild look and then he lightly pinched her lips, watching the red instantly appear. "You know… you are hot." He informed her, stepping back so Paul could see. Just a few changes and she had gone from nerd to sexy. Most people never saw that, just the geek. "I'd do you."

Paul was nodding, sipping his bottled water and then spit it out. "Wait, what?"

"You would? Well you would be the only one then."

Emery had accepted her fate long ago when it came to men and took her glasses back from Paul, slipping them back on. Nobody saw past the glasses and video game t-shirts. All throughout high school, she had to deal with ridicule and only had one picture with her all dolled up, which had been Senior prom. Her good friend had taken her as a favor since he couldn't find a date and they actually had a decent time.

"And I think you need to get your eyes checked. I am nowhere near hot. Now you, on the other hand, both of you actually, are definitely in the 'hot' category. Love you both like brothers though so it'd be like fucking my family." She shrugged her shoulders and bounded off the bed to fire up her portable PS3.

The problem Emery had was she didn't actually see herself as she was, not really. She knew she was a nerd and embraced that part of her, but she never actually took a good long look at herself in that mirror. The woman was smoking hot who could have her pick of men. But because she kept herself low key, and purposefully hid herself it seemed, nobody ever seemed to look twice. Minus them, of course. Randy was right, she was gorgeous and Paul sighed, shaking his head.

"Put on something fun and I'll spank you." He offered, eyeballing the games she was getting out.

"Fat chance of that happening, London, but you keep thinking that way." Emery remarked, putting on Call of Duty 3, which was one of their favorites together.

Randy and Paul would take turns whenever she blew them up, never playing on the same team. It was more fun that way. Emery would never look at herself as a beauty or see herself the way her friends did. She was fine with who she was – a dorky chick who loved video games and World of Warcraft. Hell, Emery hadn't had a relationship since she started in the company, just flings here and there with random people. Enough to get the sexual urgings to disappear and luckily, she didn't have that high of a sex drive.

"Oh man, come on, that's not nice, Em!" Paul shrieked, having absolutely no idea what time it was, but he did know they had been doing a lot longer than they should've been and she had just shot him in the head. Again. "Randy's asleep." He snorted, having turned to pass off the controller only to find Randy was sprawled out on the floor, face down, his face resting on his forearms. "You keep him up too late playing that World of Warcraft game." He liked video games; PC was acceptable, but he enjoyed his gaming consoles more. "One more round, I'll get it this time."

Did those idiots have any idea how LOUD they were being, Mark thought irritably, trying to sleep in the room that was next door to Emery.

"You can't beat the queen, Paulie!"

Emery laughed, glancing over her shoulder to see Randy was indeed out cold and shook her head. They didn't have to be at the arena until later that evening for the Royal Rumble. However, she also didn't want Randy to oversleep, so while Paul played solo for a second, she took his phone to set his alarm. He would wake up 2 hours before it was time to leave. Just as she went back to gaming, a banging sounded at her hotel door, causing Emery and Paul's heads to snap up. Randy was awake now as well. Opening the door, she looked up at an irate Mark Calaway and leaned in the doorway, holding her controller.

"You lost, Deadman?"

"God, I wish… you guys have been at it for hours, do you fucking mind?" She was short, he could see Orton passed out on the floor. "Some of us can't just pass out like a teenage idiot."

"That's because you don't try hard enough, old timer." Paul quipped from just behind Emery, sniggering when a vein throbbed in Taker's temple. "Need some sleep pills or something?"

Emery giggled, not bothering to hide the amusement in her sky blues and shrugged nonchalantly. "Get ear plugs, we're not going to stop having fun simply because you're an old man that needs your beauty sleep. Have a nice day!" She slammed the door in his face, making Paul keel over laughing and smirked, skipping back over to the bed to resume their game.

"D-Did you r-really j-just say t-that to HIM?!" Paul was howling with laughter, shaking his head and kissed Emery's cheek, wrapping his arms around her waist to give her a squeeze. "You definitely have brass balls, sweetie. Okay, time to kick your ass." Or try anyway.

Not even 30 minutes later, they were interrupted by the door being pounded on again. This time, however, it wasn't Taker. It was a bunch of women, obviously strippers, and before anyone could say boo, they burst through the door and began 'working'.

Randy woke up and was greeted to Emery trying to push off a tall, leggy blonde who was without any clothing except a G-string and rubbing her breasts all over the other woman. "I am still dreaming…"

Paul wasn't going to bitch about being assaulted, though he did notice they were all kind of… on Emery and he had to wonder what the hell that was about. "Did we order out?" He hadn't even known call girls worked this early.

"NO WE DIDN'T ORDER OUT!" Emery was livid, shoving the woman away from her and stared at her friends, hoping this was not a lame joke on their part. It wasn't funny! "GET OFF ME, BROAD!" She hopped up on the bed, swiping her shoe from the floor and tossed it at one of the stripper's faces, clocking her in the nose. "I'm only gonna tell you one time – GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!"

The women blinked, wondering what was going on and the other flipped her the bird for busting her nose with her shoe, all of them scampering out.

"If that Neanderthal did this, I'll…" She groaned when another knock sounded at her door and stalked over to rip it open. "WHA-" There was a clown in front of her, holding balloons and a second later, pie was tossed in her face.

As if he could go back to sleep with all that noise? Mark was out in the hallway, braiding his hair back, prepared to go work out or something since he obviously wasn't going to be allowed to rest; never mind the fact it was a pay-per-view tonight. When he seen a load of near naked woman come out of Emery's room, followed by the door being opened again, he was dying of laughter, slumping back against the wall. He had wondered what that dude with the pie was doing.

Emery was humiliated, slowly swiping the pie off of her face after taking her glasses off. It was a big enough ball in her hand of pie, her eyes narrowing to slits at a laughing Undertaker. He was openly laughing at her for being pied in the face! Scowling, Emery threw the ball of pie as hard as she could, nailing him right in the face and stopped his laughter cold. "Not so funny is it now, huh Neanderthal?" She snapped, storming back into her room and slammed the door so hard, the walls rattled. Randy and Paul had flown from the room as soon as the clown pied her in the face, not wanting to stick around for the aftermath of Emery's temper. She didn't lose her temper often, but right now it was UP. Tossing her glasses on the sink, Emery turned the shower on and shed her pie filled clothes, gnashing her teeth.

"Fucking PRICK!"

While Taker was wiping pie out of his eyes, Paul and Randy wasted absolutely no time at all in punching him. At the same time in the stomach. He had been laughing, in the hallway, it was obvious he was the one who had pulled all this prank.

"Not funny now, is it, asshole?"

"Stay away from her, Calaway, or else."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

After staying in the shower a full hour, with the cold water beating down on her, Emery finally turned the sprays off, her temper simmered for the moment. Gritting her teeth, she wanted to retaliate against Undertaker, but what good would it do? This had to stop; all of the nonsense had to stop. Sighing, Emery changed into a fresh t-shirt, jeans and braided her hair back, cleaning her glasses with special cleaner she carried with her. When the clock struck 4, it was time to leave her hotel room as she packed up and head to the arena for the Royal Rumble.

History would be made on this night.

Matthew was who greeted her at the door, looking worried. "What's going on?"

"Vince wants to see you in his office."

Frowning, Emery shouldered her bag and walked past him toward the boss's office, wondering why she was being summoned. Knocking on Vince's office door, she entered when he called out 'come in' and stepped inside, freezing at the sight of Randy, Paul and an irate looking Undertaker, all eyes turning to her. "Umm…"

Paul lowered his head along with Randy, having already gotten hefty fines for their attack on Undertaker, but they had no idea what was about to happen to Emery.

"Enough is enough." Vince said flatly, standing up behind his makeshift desk, hands splayed on it and glared at her before glaring at all the others. "I don't know what the hell happened today, but I'm done. Strippers? And beating down the Undertaker in a hotel hallway? How's that look, my top superstars, getting jumped by their coworkers?"

"Bad?"

"No kidding, Orton?" Vince rolled his eyes. "And you, Taker, really? I expected so much more from you. You've been harassing her, vandalizing property and acting like some three-year-old!"

He folded his arms over his chest, frowning.

"Vince, I have no idea who sent those strippers to my room, of all places."

"Tell me what happened now, Emery."

"We were in my room, Paul, Randy and I, and Taker banged on our door demanding us to be quiet. I told him to get ear plugs, slammed the door in his face and not even 10 minutes later, another knock sounds at my door and its strippers. And then a clown with a pie." Emery was as red as a cherry by now, unable to meet her boss's eyes and took a deep breath. "Taker was outside of his room laughing at what was going on, so I'm assuming he's the one who sent all of this to my room for a prank. I don't know what I did to him to deserve this type of treatment, but I want it to stop just as badly as you do. He smashed two of my laptops, he had my tires slashed on my rental vehicle and he claims that I've been screwing with him since he told me to leave him alone. I HAVE left him alone, not the other way around." She'd never been in trouble like this with Vince and could feel her heart thundering in her ears.

"And we're going to totally disregard the fact that she's got the entire locker room calling me a Neanderthal now? Or how about those pictures? Or the fucking room service bill for over $3,000?"

"That last one was me."

"You son of-"

"You should've left her alone then! Neanderthal."

"You three! Fined! You," Vince whirled to glare at Emery, sighing and shook his head. "You're suspended, effective immediately."

"Why?!"

"Boss, it was us, all us."

At this point, this situation was costing him money and tearing apart his talent.

"Paul, don't." Emery kept her voice quiet, knowing the boss had spoken and his word was final. "I'll catch the first flight home tonight. I'll email what I have done for No Way Out to Matthew and let him finish it up." Work came first to her and for 10 years, she'd never had any problems in this company…until this particular line for WrestleMania.

"I hope you think long and hard about what you've done, Emery. You're all dismissed." Vince was disgusted with all of them, shaking his head sadly and turned his back to the door.

Emery didn't wait to hear anything Paul, Randy and especially Undertaker had to say, walking out of the room to head for the exit. She would not cry, not until she was far away from here and completely alone.

Matthew had overheard what happened through the door and felt giddy, knowing he'd done it – he'd gotten rid of Emery and now it was time to shine!

"Wait, she's fired?" When David heard the news, it was… odd. He hadn't realized that Vince cared, until it was explained about this morning and then it made sense, sort of. But Paul and Randy had both stepped up and claimed their fair share of the blame and it kind of looked like the underwriter had been deemed the problem and the solution. Fire the problem, problems solved.

"Poor kid." He had grown to like Emery.

"Yeah, poor Emery." Matthew sighed, shaking his head sadly. "It's just too bad… her getting mixed up with Taker the way she did."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's the Undertaker. You can't talk to him or treat him the way she did; it never works out." Obviously… inside Matthew was grinning like an idiot. Strippers and pie… who knew that was the breaking point?

Going home on a Sunday evening, a pay-per-view at that, felt foreign to Emery as she packed her belongings in her suitcase. Undertaker had gotten what he wanted. She was gone and now he could do whatever the hell he wanted with the line. Knowing Vince, he'd probably throw in the towel when it came to Taker and gave the man what he wanted. Emery didn't care anymore, she was out of fight and had lost her job, as far as she knew anyway. Suspended was the same as being fired. Maybe TNA was hiring, she mused thoughtfully, deciding to look into it after she arrived home. Just as the pay-per-view began, Emery was on a plane headed to Sedona, Arizona.

"I hope Matthew has fun with all of the responsibilities." She muttered, knowing he wouldn't last a week with all the responsibility that was about to be tossed at him.

Not to mention, he would have to come up with new ideas, which he sucked at.

Mark would go on to win the Royal Rumble that night, as had been planned. At the end of the whole shebang, as he stood there, enjoying his victory, he found he didn't really enjoy it. Yes, he had wanted Emery to stop screwing with him, but not suspended, which was just a nicer way of firing someone. It wasn't her fault Matthew had written such a crap line about him dropping to Batista, though… her being fired over what was essentially strippers and a pie… and he hadn't even been the one to do that. It left a bad taste in Mark's mouth.

Matthew's mouth would be full of champagne at the end of the night.

* * *

"Matthew, I need you sign off on this."

"Matthew, this idea isn't what we agreed on."

"We also need an idea for Smackdown! Vince wants everything rewritten because of how sloppy the script is for tonight's show!"

"Emery should be here. She'd know what to do."

"Have you called Melissa over at Raw to discuss the finale to No Way Out for the main event?"

Randy watched all the writers hounding Matthew a few days later, arching a slow brow at how overwhelmed the man looked. His eyes were bugged out and he was on the verge of ripping his hair out, from Randy's viewpoint anyway. Emery hadn't even been gone 48 hours and this fool was destroying the writing team! She really was the oil that kept the writing team running smoothly.

"He really does need Emery; it's obvious she was the brains."

"How did he ever make lead writer? He's a moron."

"He must've been stealing all Emery's ideas, this is stupid. We're going to drop in ratings so hard…"

Even David was paying attention to the gossip and complaints coming from the writing department, shaking his head. That was messed up.

So was Mark, and things didn't make sense. All those brilliant lines, the few stupid ones that were rare, and suddenly Matthew was floundering.

"What the hell is this?" Vince demanded, looking back at Matthew with narrowed eyes and slammed the paper down on his desk. "You were supposed to pick up the ball and run with it now that you're no longer Emery's proxy. Are you telling me you can't handle this position, Matthew?"

"Sir, I…" Matthew never realized just how straining and stressful this position was, swallowing hard at the boss. "Just give me a little time to fix all of this…you won't be disappointed!"

Vince waved him off dismissively, shaking his head sadly. "Just get out of my office."

* * *

"Em, you should see how miserable this asshole is without you around." Paul murmured in his cell phone, Randy nodding in agreement. They missed her fiercely and wanted her back. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"It's fine, maybe I deserved it after what I did to Undertaker. Either way, I hope he's enjoying my position." Matthew didn't have a CLUE what the lead script writer did and, just as she predicted, was way over his head. "Keep me updated, I'm gonna go play some Kingdom Hearts." She hung up, laughing.

* * *

Sedona, Arizona… god's hellhole. This was where people came to die. It was gross. He was a Texas man, he preferred the big blue sky, the varied scenery and, sure, it was dry, but nothing like the damn desert.

"Fucking lizards…" He grunted, kicking one off of the toe of his boot.

Frowning, Mark eyeballed the place, glancing at the address written in the palm of his hand and shrugged. Emery being gone had caused some issues, and it was weird. Also weird was the fact that some of the situations that had been happening to him, Paul and London had vehemently denied wrongdoing for and claimed she was innocent as well. Like the itch powder in his gear and he hadn't sent those strippers to her room either.

Sedona was beautiful with mountains as far as the eye could see, green grass and had a rich land full of valleys. Her house was light brown, 2 bedroom and all hers, completely paid for. Besides splurging on the occasion game, Emery had saved her money and invested it well in her first home. She was born and raised in Scottsdale, Arizona, but fell in love with Sedona during one of her family vacations. Her parents were currently in Scottsdale and she'd visited them whenever she could. Wearing a pair of blue jean shorts and a white tank top that had some kind of video game character on it, Emery had just finished making lunch when a knock sounded at her front door. She wasn't expecting anyone and had no neighbors, not for miles anyway. When she opened the door and came face to face with Undertaker, her jaw actually dropped.

What the HELL was he doing here?!

A picture was instantly snapped because he had his cell phone in hand, figuring whatever her reaction to seeing him would be, it'd be hilarious. He was pleased to know he had been right. "Surprise, sweetheart!" Mark greeted, grinning down at her. "We need to have a chat, Emery." He had even used her actual name and not DC, which while cruel, was now how she was permanently stuck in his head.

"You came all the way to my house to…wait, how did you know where I live?"

She sighed when he just waved her hands, gesturing for her to let him inside her home. This was…incredibly awkward. He brushed past her to walk inside, not waiting for her invitation and shook her head, shutting the door. What was there to talk about? She was suspended because of his ridiculous pranks and antics. Emery suddenly didn't care about eating lunch and slid fingers through her waist length black hair. It was down since she was home; she always had it pulled back in either a braid, ponytail or bun when at work.

"What do you want, Mark?" She asked resignedly, folding her arms in front of her chest and watched him survey her living room.

"I didn't send the strippers, or the dick with the pie, to your hotel room." He informed her, busy looking around her pad. There were posters everywhere and collectibles; she was definitely a dork. Then, he turned to look at her and it was his turn to let his jaw hit the floor. "Your hair is down." He pointed out, then cleared his throat. He felt like the dork now. "How the fuck do you keep it up all the time?" Because it was insanely long.

"Braid, ponytail or bun. Not hard to keep it up." Emery didn't know if she believed him about the strippers and clown with the pie, looking thoughtful. "You have long hair too, how do YOU keep it maintained?" She shot back, padding over to the couch and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. He was being civil with her. "The itching powder wasn't me either, I swear. Paul and Randy didn't do it either. We don't know who did that to you. Are you gonna take a seat or remain standing?" When he hesitantly settled onto her couch, on the opposite end, Emery turned to face him.

It was surreal this man, who hated her, was currently in her home.

"Deep conditioning and hot oil treatments." He said bluntly and honestly. "I have a great hairdresser, she's awesome." Frowning, Mark shifted on the couch, wondering if his backside would be able to get up again; he was sinking. "Someone… is being a sneaky ass, and I want to know who." So, if it wasn't her, or her friends, who had done it? "Any ideas?"

"Nope, zero." Emery had thought it over ever since she came home several days ago. It was Wednesday and she'd been suspended on Sunday. "Congratulations on the Royal Rumble win, by the way." She felt she owed him that, even though she'd been the one to write it happening. "Wait a minute, you have a hair dresser?" Snickering, Emery didn't know why she found that funny and stood up from the couch to walk into the kitchen, her entire house an open floor plan. "Want something to drink, Mark?" She had a feeling he'd be here a while. "I have beer, water, juice…and coffee."

"Water, please."

Of course he had a hairdresser, Mark wasn't the Neanderthal she thought he was and he dyed his hair. Black, and he was a redhead naturally. That crap took a toll on a man's hair. If he was going to destroy it, he should probably at least attempt to slow down the process.

"Well, Emery, I have a list of enemies a mile long. So, we compare and see if there are any familiar names, or we go on the assumption that we were both being jerked around at the same time and coincidences do happen." Which he did not believe.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"And you're an idiot for even saying those words because this wasn't a coincidence." Emery plopped on the couch and tossed him a bottled water, cracking open one of her crystal lights and sat Indian style. "Someone is targeting both of us and making us rip each other's throats out, figuratively speaking. I've been thinking about it ever since I came home and…I honestly don't know who would target me and you at the same time. It makes no sense considering I'm just a lowly writer on the team." There was no way she would ever admit to being the lead script writer; Emery liked her head attached to her skull. "I'm nobody special, but you are and whoever saw our…scuffles took advantage. So, who do YOU think it is, Deadman?"

"No idea." He said promptly, staring at her intently. If she spoke to everyone the way she did him, Mark could see how Emery might not make friends all that well. Either she didn't know it or didn't care, but she spoke to people like they were all idiots and he wasn't an idiot. "Someone who doesn't like you." Because everyone adored him, or feared him; same difference really. "You go out of your way to piss anyone else off or am I special?"

She deserved that, not meaning to speak to him disrespectfully. "Sorry, I just don't…I don't know how else to talk to you. I'm not a conversationalist and you showing up at my front door is a little surreal to me. I didn't mean to piss you off, Mark." Emery meant that, drawing her brows together in thought while staring at him. He was a beautiful man – a beautiful man who would never look her way or see past the glasses and 'nerd' clothes. "I tell you what, let's start over from scratch. And I'll go first." Scooting closer to him on the couch, Emery sat on her knees and extended her hand with a soft smile, no malice or ingenuity. "Hi, I'm Emery." She leaned closer to him. "Now you." She staged whispered, pulling back with her hand still extended.

Mark comprehended she was crazy; he had known it for a while, but this just kind of cemented it. Inwardly sighing, he took her hand and shook it. "Mark Calaway." He said after a moment, studying her attentively. He bet if she put on some lipstick and went around in a plaid mini-skirt with a button up top, she'd be a gamer geek pin-up. And the thought made his emerald green eyes flick over her, looking for the woman under the geek. "The only person who would actively screw with me for giggles is not on the show." Shawn was an asshole that way.

Come to think of it, Glen Jacobs – Kane – was guilty of pulling pranks too.

"I didn't screw with you for giggles, I screwed with you because you screwed with me first. But I'm willing to let bygones be bygones if you are." She raised a brow at him, putting the ball in his court and grinned when he shook her hand, nodding in agreement. "Good, no more screwing with each other."

It was a truce! They made a truce finally! Emery was definitely one of a kind woman and she knew it, not to mention her secretive adrenaline junkie ways. That motorcycle ride with him suddenly flittered through her mind, making her sky blues twinkle.

"I'm sorry about…everything." That included his upcoming WrestleMania match where he was supposed to lose against Batista. "Now, what are we going to do about this fucker who is screwing around with us? How can we catch them in the act?"

"No idea." Mark admitted, leaning back cautiously into the couch and let out a sigh of relief when it kept on holding him. "But I will tell you this, darlin', it's all stopped. The second you left, everything just… stopped, including the storylines. Vince is having nightly fits and Smackdown! is going to tank in weeks. That's being generous, if Matthew doesn't fix whatever is going on." It was odd because it had been Matthew all these years leading the charge, right? So why was everything going downhill because one woman was gone?

"O-Oh really?" Emery rubbed the back of her neck, not liking the sound of what had happened to her writing team since her suspension. "Well that's on him, not me." Paul and Randy had given her updates and she knew Matthew was tanking fast, but there was nothing she could do about it. "So nothing else has happened ever since I left…That's so strange." It was almost like whoever this person was wanted her gone. "Matthew needs to fix it, I can't do anything about it, even if I was there." That was a flat lie, but her neck was on the line right now. Mark would destroy her if he found out she'd been the mastermind behind all the lines for the past 10 years. "Until my suspension is lifted, I can't do anything to help unfortunately. Did he at least finish the script for No Way Out with you and Batista against Cena and Michaels?"

"Yeah, he did." His lips thinned into a grim line as he remembered the morning meeting for that atrocity. "I think that's about the only thing Batista and I agreed on, ever. That it sucks. Vince told him he had 24 hours to fix it; mind you, that was yesterday and I haven't heard dick about it since. No idea what Cena or Michaels think because I don't care."

Both men gave him a headache. She looked uncomfortable and he studied her thoughtfully. Blue jean shorts and a tank top, he could not recall ever seeing her in something besides a t-shirt and jeans. Her legs were a little pale for someone who lived in Satan's balls, but they were very nice legs, surprisingly. Mark was quite tempted to reach out and caress her shapely, toned calf.

"I'll admit, when Matthew came to me with the idea for No Way Out, I thought it looked really good on paper. I still think it'll be a hell of a main event, even though you have to team up with Batista." Emery decided to be somewhat truthful with him, switching her position to sit Indian style again, but didn't move away from him. "You were right. I think Matthew knows that too, which is why he's been playing the duck and dodge game, besides being stuffed in the trunk of his rental." And towed away, she added mentally, clearing her throat. "Your legacy is a big part of WrestleMania and…I think – no I KNOW – Matthew regrets writing the line the way he did. He wasn't thinking about your legacy, he was trying to do what was best for the company and it did look good on paper. But after what I heard you say to Batista in your locker room, I agree with you. He doesn't deserve to win and end your streak. So on behalf of Matthew, and I know it doesn't mean much, but…I'm sorry, Mark. Hopefully they can fix it somehow to where you win the title at WrestleMania…"

Mark reached out with the back of his hand and felt her forehead. "Not hot, your cheeks aren't flushed… eyes not glazed over." Either hell had frozen over or she was serious. She was sincere and agitated, her eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. "Apology accepted. If you ever get your job back, remember something… what's best for the company isn't always what's best for the company. Vince wants big guys like David put over, he has a thing for…. that look." He always had. "But people like David aren't in it for the long haul and people need to start paying attention to that. No point in putting over idiots who won't be here in the next 10 years."

He wasn't being a jerk, or talking down to her, but if she did get her job back, maybe Emery would remember this and start really thinking about it. It'd definitely help her see who was worthy of honors like this and maybe she'd be able to influence her bosses, whoever that would be. Matt was probably going to wind up fired or in a mental ward for a breakdown.

"You're just full of jokes, aren't you?" Emery mumbled good-naturedly, nodding in understanding to show she listened to every word he said. "Thank you…and I know Vince has a boner for guys that are…bulky. That's not what I consider a champion though. Batista hasn't been a very good champion, all things considered."

She'd written all of his lines, but the man never lived up to expectations. Emery must've had a small breakdown when she'd written Undertaker losing to Batista at WrestleMania. Or maybe her brain had temporarily shut down.

"You're not as bad as I thought." She murmured thoughtfully, getting lost in his eyes that reminded her of emerald stones and had to look away, shaking herself mentally. "I don't think I'll be back for a while, so they'll have to find a new lead script writer if Matthew ends up fired."

She was staring at him a little too keenly and Mark cleared his throat. "Darlin', let's get this straight, I AM just as bad as you thought. I'm worse even." He had written on her forehead and rentals. Best she not get too comfortable though… if she wasn't coming back… "Wait, what do you mean, Emery? If you don't come back and he gets fired, they'd need a new lead? You think you would've had that spot if he got fired?" He was a little curious since her role was still foggy to him.

Obviously she was too smart to be that idiot's underling, but… that's what she was.

"No, I don't think so. Deep down, you're a teddy bear or you wouldn't be here talking to me, trying to figure this out. You're a nice guy…with an evil streak, I admit that." She scratched her forehead as remembrance of what he'd done to her, but that was the past and it needed to stay there. "I don't know if I would get his position. I've been with the company for 10 years, but…" Emery needed to shut up before she gave herself away and tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. "Hopefully I do come back because I do love my job and I love the company. But it's ultimately up to Vince if he wants to bring me back and if he doesn't, there's other promotions I can work for, I guess."

"You're sweet, a little… slow, but sweet." He was considering strangling her here, in her home, for calling him a teddy bear. Nice and evil didn't mix, she needed to learn that. "What have you been doing for 10 years?" Mark asked, trying to remember seeing her before this storyline had royally pissed him off. He could remember dealing with the writer's back at the end of the 90's, irate over what they were about to do to the Ministry angle. That had been a disaster and he had less than gracefully mucked it up. "You've really been someone's assistant, or a junior writer that long? Are you any good at writing?"

There was the asshole she despised, though Emery kept the smile on her face. "I'm not anyone's assistant, just part of the writing team." Flat lie. "And yes, I'm good at my job or else I wouldn't be working for the WWE." Baiting her wouldn't work; Emery wouldn't slip up, knowing the consequences if she did. If this man even KNEW all she'd accomplished, and destroyed, with her ideas, he would've maimed her in her very own home. "I started in 1996 and it's now 2006, so 10 years with no issues…until recently." Of course he didn't remember her; she was the nerdy chick with glasses and wore video game t-shirts, mostly. Nobody ever got to see her laid back and in her element like she was now, except Randy and Paul. "It just makes me wonder what a person gets out of targeting someone on the writing team and then you. What do they get out of it in the end? Who benefits from it?"

This was a mind game – they were in a mind game and it wasn't amusing.

"Vince fires at least half the writing crew every year, so you must be good."

He wasn't praising her so much as stating a fact. Vince was just that way, though the old man also thought of himself as a 'writer'. Thank the stars that man would let himself be talked out of things. Some of the things he had come up with sucked.

"Well, Emery, let's look at it this way: since you left, everything stopped. So, who benefits from you being gone, but also knows I really, really didn't like you?" Everyone on the writing team came to mind. "Anyone trying to take your place? Got a lover hidden in the company?"

"Oh god no! No – no – no – no…Nope, I learned a long time ago what happens when you date in the company."

She'd had a fling with someone who was no longer there and it'd been the worst mistake of her life. Never again. She'd caught the 'didn't' and Emery felt a little flop in her chest, ignoring it for the time being.

"I don't think anyone on the writing team would be vying for my position since it's all the same. We're all the same except Matthew, who is the lead."

Though the more she thought about it, the more she did wonder if Matthew was behind all of this. There was no way, the man could barely form a coherent sentence and the ONLY reason why he'd been hired was to be her proxy. Nothing more.

"Or maybe this person stopped because they didn't want to be discovered and end up buried six feet under in Texas somewhere."

"I already told you, I'd bury them in some random backyard."

Not his own, he wasn't polluting Texas with some jackass's corpse. He actually eliminated Matthew, the man had been lead for years, though it was now apparent why he had been up Emery's backside. Matthew was one of those 'uppers' who needed a crew of a lot smarter, underappreciated people beneath him to pad him. And that man did need a lot of padding.

"Well, it stopped, and you're gone so… this is about you more than me." He felt like he had been a tool, used to get to her, and it had worked quite well.

"I don't like games." Emery finally got tired of sitting on her hair and shifted enough to pull it back to rest over her shoulder. "I mean I DO like games, obviously." She gestured around the living room at all of her posters and gaming memorabilia, which was quite a bit. Every gaming console known to man decked out her 5-tier entertainment center, her huge 70" flat screen television on the wall. "But mind games, no. Don't like them a bit. And whoever this person is, if I find out who they are, what I did to you will look like child's play compared to what happens to them." She vowed, a dark tinge in her voice and looked back at her unexpected visitor. "So why did you come here anyway? Why even bother making amends with someone like me?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Well, you're suspended, which is politely saying you're fired. I don't have to worry about you and your friends destroying my motorcycles or printing off posters with big words, so it allows me to be… _generous_." As in, not kill her, which had been tempting for a while. His gaze flickered to her hair, wondering how she managed to use the bathroom without accidents happening and snorted. "And like I said, everything stopped once you were gone. So either someone realized Vince was on the warpath or someone had it out for you. Best person to determine which was what would be you."

"Hell, I thought you wanted me gone, hence the strippers and clown incident." Emery would NEVER live that down, shaking her head. Who the hell would send strippers to HER room, a woman's room? Not that there was anything wrong with girl on girl action, but she didn't swing that way. "And if I'm fired, I wish they'd tell me so I can start looking for another job. TNA is hiring in their writing department and other wrestling promotions are looking for writers too. So, I'm not too worried about it, honestly." Though she did sound saddened by the fact she'd more than likely lost her job with WWE. 10 years down the drain. "Ugh, this is depressing. Wanna play a video game?" She laughed at the incredulous look on his face. "Oh come on! Don't tell me you're THAT old you can't enjoy a game, Deadman?"

"Wait, go back…TNA? You know they suck, right? And it's not just the writing, it's the talent." They got all the WWE leftovers and rejects and he understood why she thought she'd fit right in. Shaking his head, Mark eyeballed her collection. "I like racing games." He admitted, arching an eyebrow, daring her to say something.

"Yes, I know TNA sucks, but what choice do I have if I'm fired from WWE?" That revelation about him didn't surprise her and it was written all over her face. "Considering the ride you took me on your bike, which was amazing, I'm not shocked at all. Just sit there looking pretty while I set this up." At his growl, she laughed and bounced over to her entertainment center, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Here we go, get some real aggression out with this one." She tossed him a controller and took one for herself, turning the console on. "How about I order a pizza or something?"

Vegging out and playing video games – this was Emery's idea of heaven. He was familiar with the systems. Hell, he had grown up with some of these and he grunted when he spotted an Atari, shaking his head. Talk about making a guy feel old as dirt! Mark could not believe he was sitting here with her, about to eat pizza and play video games. The Undertaker had lost his mind. Green eyes began searching for a camera or a cell phone, not about to have this made up into the next poster.

"Sure."

"Beat you again!" Emery gloated, smirking over at Mark, who looked ready to either break the controller or hurl it against the wall. She wasn't sure yet. "If it makes you feel any better, the new WWE game they came out with recently, I defeated Paul while playing…Hornswaggle."

She grinned evilly, standing up and swiped another piece of pizza from the coffee table. 5 of them were strewn and haphazardly stacked, not that she minded. Mark was a lot of fun to be around and hang out with, surprisingly enough.

"Oh come on, don't cry Deadman. I'm the Queen when it comes to video games, just ask Paul and Randy. They'll tell you how many countless hours they've spent trying to dethrone me and I get them every time." Plopping on the couch right next to him, she reached out to pinch his cheek playfully. "Come on, get that scowl off your face. This is supposed to be fun."

"Darlin', you are a sore winner is your damage." She bragged, a lot, and he wondered if that was why her friends seemed to be few and far between. "Not saying you're not good, because you are." The fact that she had used that midget in a video game to beat Paul… that was hilarious, he snickered, reaching out to pinch her cheek in return, his more of a warning than a tease. "Got Blur?" His favorite racing/motor mash game ever. He sucked at the mash part, but he did pretty well on Mt. Haruna. "Come on, Queenie." When Emery stood up to go look, he lightly swatted her backside.

"See, now I don't mind being called that. Queenie has a nice ring to it. And I'm not a sore winner, you're just a sore loser."

She stuck her tongue out at him, not minding being swatted on the backside. Didn't he figure that out when he spanked her? Now that was a delicious memory…she immediately pushed that thought process out of her head and pulled out the game he wanted to play. Popping it in, Emery took her place next to him on the couch again and started the game, drawing her knees up to rest against her chest. There was a reason he picked this particular game and when he actually defeated her, dethroning her undefeated streak, her jaw dropped.

"No way! No fucking way! You beat me!" Legitimate defeat. Holding her hand up, Emery high-fived him and patted his jean covered thigh, shaking her head. "Nice going! Wanna go again?"

"Sure." He watched as she set the options, noting the damage was now at one-hit and respawn off, shaking his head. "That's cheating, Queenie." She wanted to be called that, fine, it actually seemed to suit her.

He was also certain that was a bear in those old kiddie books. Cargo Run, he sucked at that one and groaned, rolling his eyes when he was shunted right out the gate, dying and set down the controller to reach for a slice of pizza, watching as she kept going. Third lap and the map glitched, leaving her car floating in the water. Loved the game, but this was the one track that had that issue and he shook his head. He was having fun, this was wrong, on a lot of levels.

"Well that sucks."

"It always does that, I swear. That's the only bad thing about this game, honestly. The glitch was supposed to be fixed, but they never bothered to do it." Emery shrugged, moving to get up to change out games and blinked when the cheese had slid off the pizza to land right on his shirt. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh while he cussed and went into the kitchen to grab a wet paper towel and sat down to pluck the cheese away. "If you-" Watching this man remove his shirt, his muscles flexing with every movement, made Emery breathless and she had to get a hold of herself quickly. "Let me throw that in the wash really quick. I have stain remover, don't worry." Shout was her best friend in these circumstances as he handed over his shirt to her.

It'd been a long – LONG – time since Emery felt remotely anything for a man, but Mark was no ordinary man. Mark smirked the moment she was gone, glancing down at himself. That had worked out better than he thought. Now he knew, she wasn't a dyke; she was just sexually repressed or something.

"You don't have to, Queenie, I can just-" When she took it and darted off down the hallway, he got up and followed, his footsteps silent. He had years of practice when it came to being quiet. "Thank you, Emery." He said, green eyes amused when she whirled around to find him right there, noting her eyes were raking him in again. Mark wasn't a video game, but he was pretty sure she was sorting out how to play him.

"Damn, you need to wear a bell or something." Emery joked, turning away from him to spray his shirt with the Shout and tossed it in the washer, putting a small amount of detergent in before shutting the lid.

It wasn't that she was sexually repressed, there wasn't a lot of interest in the company and nobody glanced her way, besides Randy and Paul. The laundry room was actually a pantry and he'd taken over half of the space besides the washer and dryer. Emery had to look up at him, gripping the washer and nodded, smiling softly.

"Not a problem, Mark. I would offer a shirt for you to wear, but…you're about three times the size of me, so…I don't think you want to have a Chris Farley moment."

"Who?" She had lost him and could only assume it was from a video game or something. When Emery's jaw dropped, Mark reached out with firm fingers and closed her mouth for her. "That's how… flies get in, darlin'."

That was not actually what he had been about to say, but the woman was washing his shirt and being nice, so he probably shouldn't provoke her. Mark eyeballed her pantry, or whatever it was, cocking an eyebrow at how… tiny it seemed, though that was just him. He leaned forward, his massive body pressing hers back into her washer and reached up, wrapping a stray spiderweb around his finger. Emery followed his hand to the spider web while her face was pressed against his muscular chest, inhaling his scent for a brief moment. Sandalwood, gasoline and something she couldn't put her finger on, but it was intoxicating none the less. Emery had to get a hold of herself and looked away from him when he backed up a fraction, pushing her glasses up on her nose since they'd slid down a little. Her heart was pounding vigorously against her chest and her body felt heated suddenly being this close to him.

What was going on? Didn't she despise this man? So why was she suddenly aroused by him?

"There's a – uh – scene in the movie where he puts on David Spade's jacket and…you know, it would be easier just to show you. Come on, we'll watch the movie and you can see for yourself what I'm talking about." Emery had to get out of this enclosed space before she did something reckless.

Except she couldn't get out because he had her trapped there and Mark ignored her, finishing what he was doing before looking down at her. Her glasses were steamed and he bet it was due to being nose to chest with him. He stepped back and bent down until they were eye level, reaching up with his web free hand to take her glasses off of her, rubbing them against his thigh while he stared into her eyes.

"You have pretty eyes, darlin'." He informed her, wondering why she didn't wear contacts.

"Thank you." Emery wanted to stop him from removing her glasses, but couldn't get her limbs to work properly. Her reply came out in a soft murmur, not a trace of humor or disregard. "You do too."

His eyes were gorgeous, emerald gemstones. It was no wonder women threw themselves at him and worshipped the ground he walked on. This room was becoming stifling, his scent wafting all around her and Emery had to find some way to put some kind of distance between them, so she did the first thing that came to mind. She hopped up on the washer while it ran and clasped her hands in her lap, only for him to close the distance between them again, her glasses being set on the dryer.

"You probably hear that a lot though. Your eyes, I mean." Emery didn't realize it, but her cheeks had infused a deep crimson from his compliment.

"Mine?" Actually, he usually got told 'great eyeliner' because he wore it often and, half the time, he forgot to wash it off; he was a tired, busy man. Mark couldn't tell if she was blushing from his compliment or from her attempt at one. "Come on, Queenie." He gripped her waist in his hands, fingers splayed against her firmly. "Let's get out of this little room, you look ready to faint."

She was flushed and looked clammy, maybe now was a good time to check her temperature. He lifted Emery up and set her down, feeling her body glide against his. Mark definitely approved of the tank top and shorts. Feeling his hands anywhere on her body ignited her in flames. Her tank top had rode up when he lifted her, so it was skin to skin contact. She shivered involuntary against him and knew he felt it, her feet finally coming in contact with the tiled floor moments later. The rest of her house, besides the kitchen and bathroom, was carpeted. She hated wooden floors of any kind, carpeting all the way.

"I'm a little warm…" Emery admitted, watching him back out of the room and took her glasses to slide them back on as her vision became 20/20 again. "Come on, Deadman, we're gonna watch that movie." Grabbing his hand, she pulled him down the small hallway of her house without realizing what she was doing.

It was odd how she seemed to have forgotten how he bullied her, scrawled on her forehead, basically kidnapped her, literally spanked her and generally made a nuisance of himself. Of course, Emery hadn't been an angel either, though her antics had never been physical like his. Mark had reached the conclusion that she was an adrenaline junkie and a closet masochist; she got her rocks off by being humiliated or put in… awkward positions. He let her pull him out into the living room, taking 30 seconds to shame the half-mast erection he had gotten back down.

If Emery knew what he was currently thinking, she would've booted his backside right out the front door and bounced it off his head like a basketball. As it was, he was being nice to her and she'd be lying if she didn't find him attractive. Extremely attractive. He would never go down that road with her though, they were completely different people. Opposites did attract, but Emery hadn't forgotten the incident with the pen on her forward or ruining her favorite Kingdom Hearts t-shirt. After popping the movie in, she sat on the couch and put a little space between them, grinning as soon as it started. When it got to the part where Chris Farley started singing 'fat guy in a little coat' with David Spade's – Richard's – suit jacket and ripped it down the middle, she laughed and pointed at Mark.

"That's exactly what you would look like if you put one of my shirts on. Only you're not fat like him, you're…built." That was the best word she could come up with at the moment, turning her attention back to the movie.

After a few minutes into the movie, Mark knew who she was talking about now and this was just another reminder of how different they were. He didn't really care for dumb comedies, more of a suspense/mystery kind of guy, and sports, of course. "Isn't he the guy who overdosed while banging a hooker?" Even he remembered that, which was definitely the way to go and he grinned lasciviously at the thought.

"Yeah he did." Emery liked a lot of different genre movies; she wasn't just a one genre type of woman, liking to keep an open mind. "It's not the greatest movie, but I like it nonetheless."

She stood up halfway through the movie to walk down the hallway to throw his t-shirt into the dryer. Then she visited the bathroom, braiding her hair while take care of business. Once she finished with that, Emery walked back out to rejoin Mark and didn't see him anywhere, raising a slow brow wondering where he was.

"Mark?"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

He was outside, studying the neighborhood. She had been taking forever in the bathroom, so… reluctantly, he admitted the view wasn't too bad, but wasn't overly pleased at the sight of another damn lizard on his truck either.

"Emery brought home a man? I am surprised…"

That was a high pitched, fake sugary voice and the very stereotype of dumb blond on the front walk. Mark had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the sight of her walking a Chihuahua; those were not dogs, they were rats on a leash. "She sure did." He rumbled, letting his voice drop to a low, husky pitch, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. Mark had foregone the belt and his jeans were hanging just a little low on his hips. He stood there, black hair down, bare chested and she was gawking.

"Oh my… I'm Cindy."

He bet. "Mark, darlin'." This could be amusing.

The front door opened just as he greeted Cindy and Emery immediately regretted coming outside, inwardly groaning. Why? Why did the gods have to punish her with the likes of Cindy Bakell? This woman was plastic all the way around, had so many surgeries to enhance her body it was pathetic.

Cindy practically floated over to where they stood, her dark blue eyes devouring the sex god in front of her whole. That's exactly what he was. "My – My, Emy, you didn't tell me you had a new hunk in your life…"

"That's because I don't flaunt my relationships in front of the world, unlike you, Cindy. And the name is Emery." She HATED being called Emy with a passion and didn't bother hiding her disdain.

"Now – now, no need to be snide, kiddo." How the HELL had Emery landed this man was beyond her! "I was just getting to know your new man…Mark, was it?"

"My – wait what?" Emery was now looking at Mark, confusion swirling in her sky-blue orbs.

"Yeah, Mark." He replied, flashing a very charming, predatory smile and slung his arm out, catching Emery and pulling her into his side. No wonder she had taken forever, her hair was braided. Mark bet it took her an hour in the shower, just on hair alone. "We only just started datin', honey." He drawled, keeping that low, husky voice, the one that tended to cause panties to drop. Mark could see hers falling, figuratively. He doubted she was wearing any, that skirt was too short and too tight; he didn't see any lines.

"Oh…" Cindy was eyeing them speculatively and Mark like he was a piece of meat she wanted to tear into. "So… not serious then?"

"She's into the sex, I'm hopin' we're going to get more serious, but…" He shrugged, pretty sure Emery was going to brain him. "You know how it is; try having a serious conversation when all you're doing is… you know…"

"I do?"

"Course you do." He watched as she approached them. The woman was confused and it showed. "Sex, honey, keep up. We're in a physical relationship."

She had never once in her life been jealous of her neighbor until just now.

Emery had to snap out of her shocked state if this was going to work, if she wanted to convince Cindy they were… "VERY physical." Good, her vocal cords still worked, so that was a plus.

"How come I haven't seen you around here then?"

"Because we just started dating, didn't you hear him?" Emery took a chance and slid her hand up his bare chest, snuggling into his side while eyeballing her nosey neighbor. "He came to pay me a visit while I'm on vacation."

How could a man of his stature, of his sex appeal, be interested in someone who looked like they should still be in high school? "Anything I can do to change your mind, handsome?" Her voice came out in a purr, ignoring Emery. "I'm sure you'd rather have a REAL woman in bed than…that."

Her face had turned red at that blatant insult, but Emery kept her temper in check. "Well, Calaway, what do you think about that?" She asked, looking up at him and wondered if he did find Cindy attractive. Probably. He seemed like the type who bed-hopped and had his fair share of women like the plastic Barbie doll in front of them.

Now, if it had been on his terms, maybe… but as it was, Cindy was acting like an outright slut and a bitch to boot. "No, darlin', I think I'm good with what I got right here." He blatantly dropped his hand down to her jean covered backside and squeezed himself a handful. "Besides," His gaze raked over Cindy sneeringly. "Judgin' from them fake tits and the obvious nose job, you're not that much of a real woman, honey."

"You son of a bitch!"

"Get lost, broad." He growled, a hand moving up Emery's back to grip her neck, forcing her to tilt her head back so he could meet her eyes. He winked at her before bending down to kiss the corner of her mouth.

"No, that's…" Cindy couldn't wrap her mind around this travesty and picked up her dog. "You slut!"

He was outright laughing now.

Emery would've laughed if her breath hadn't been stolen from her body from that slight brush of Mark's against hers. Granted, it was just a brush and on the corner, but…it was enough to light her body on fire and felt stomach form in the pit of her stomach. She had to keep reminding herself he was using her to scare Cindy off while his bone-chilling laughter flooded over her. His lips were still on the corner while laughing and all she could do was stand there, trying to force herself to add in the laughter since Cindy was still watching.

"No, that would be you, sweetheart."

Taking the reins of this situation, since Mark wanted to use her, Emery figured she'd take advantage and slid her hand through his silky black tresses before planting a full lip lock on him, tightening her fingers in his hair. Damn, he was a better kisser than she imagined and this did nothing to quell the raging fire inside of her. Cindy's dumb ass was a glutton for punishment. She had stopped out on the sidewalk to glare at them some more so… Mark lifted Emery up, guiding her legs around his waist and returned that kiss, making her melt visibly into him. One hand moved to her braid and he tugged her head back, hearing her moan. She was… he had been right. Woman was a masochist and that was something any other time he'd exploit, but right now… they had an audience.

"Shut up, Taco!" She shrieked when the dog began screeching in pain, she was off again, not even bothering to look back this time.

"She named that poor damn rat taco?"

Cindy threw her hands up, shrieking in outrage and stormed away with her dog, practically choking the poor thing.

"I – what?"

Emery was dazed from that kiss, not expecting him to lift her off the ground or to return the passion. Pulling her hair had done something to her, the desire swirling in her now slightly darker blues. It took a few seconds to register what he asked her and Emery nodded, stumbling a little when he set her down on the ground. Her fingers instantly went to her swollen lips, not remembering the last time a man kissed her quite like that, if ever.

"I didn't mean to kiss you, but she was pissing me off and…" What if he didn't want to be kissed? Then the harsh realization dawned on her, crashed over her like a tidal wave…she just kissed the Undertaker! "Sorry…"

Emery did not sound sorry at all.

"No, you're not." He chuckled, stepping away from her and ran his fingers through his loose hair, smirking as he watched Cindy disappear with her rat around the corner. "That was fun, Queenie." 'Mark looked down at her, still grinning. "So, want to finish that movie?" His shirt would be done by then he imagined and then he'd leave, before he pulled her hair again.

"Yeah it was."

She grinned back at him, the crimson in her cheeks dwindling and lead him back inside the house, shutting the door. The dryer was still going, but by the time the movie, which was paused, ended it would be finished. Emery didn't want him to leave, but it seemed like he was restless and ready to get the hell out of dodge. While the movie resumed, she cleaned up the living room to get her mind off the kiss, her lips still burning and tingling from it. What the hell had she been thinking kissing this man? Shaking her head, Emery shoved all the leftover pizza in a Ziploc bag and put in the fridge and finally sat back down on the couch.

He was sound asleep when she returned to the living room. Mark had driven straight on through from the house show and then been up all day just hanging out with the former Dork Chick. She had surprised him and it seemed like Mark had surprised her too. But when she had started cleaning, he had stopped pretending he cared about the movie and began dozing instead.

Finding him asleep on the couch made her heart warm at the sight, so Emery didn't disturb him and finished the movie. He wouldn't be leaving, at least not tonight. It was too late for him to leave anyway and she did have a spare bedroom with a queen-sized bed. At the same time, however, she didn't want to wake him up. He looked so peaceful when he slept as she watched him for a little while, burning every bit of this to memory. Once he left, she would never see him again since Vince had practically fired her and that made her sigh sadly. Hanging out with him was a lot of fun, even scaring Cindy off and the kiss…Emery wondered if he enjoyed it as much as she did or if he was acting. Eventually, she too fell asleep leaning against him.

* * *

"For the record, you can't be fired because Matthew has lost his mind." Paul said first thing the next morning. He had found her spare key and let himself in, Randy right behind him. "We brought bagels, doughnuts, and lots of coffee… and extra controllers- WHAT THE FUCK?"

Randy stared over Paul's head, cocking an eyebrow. "That was… unexpected." He said finally, sidestepping Paul.

Not even bothering to open his eyes, Mark reached underneath Emery. She had shifted and woken him up sometime during the night, so he had turned her back to where she wouldn't fall off of him. She made a great blanket. However, she was laying on her stomach, on him, and his balls needed adjusting. He used one arm to leverage her up just a little and the other to do said adjusting.

"What – where?!" Emery popped her head up, hearing someone shouting behind her and quickly took inventory of where she was at and WHO she was on. "Umm…"

How the HELL was she supposed to explain this one?

Her glasses were off, lying on the coffee table, but she knew exactly what rock-hard body she was lying on top of and felt her cheeks burn bright red. When she moved her knee and heard Mark hiss out, Emery mumbled an incoherent apology and carefully pushed herself up on him. She wasn't very graceful though and landed on her backside on the carpeted floor, hearing laughter behind her.

"I'm going to kill you both." Emery knew who was here and rolled over to sit up on her knees, sliding her glasses on her face. "What in god's name are you two doing here?"

First Mark and now them…was the WWE in her part of the country?

"We came to see you and bring you presents. Namely, breakfast and our hot bods. What the fuck is he doing here?" Randy wasn't overly pleased at the sight of Emery sleeping with/on the Undertaker. He flexed beneath his t-shirt, prepared to toss the old man out on his dead backside.

"Yeah, why are you two sleeping together?"

Mark had rolled onto his side to stare down at Emery, amusement on his face as he blinked his hazy green eyes at her. "Because the sex is good." He rumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"No – NO it's not!" Emery shook her head fervidly, eyes wide and held her hand up to Randy before he could put his foot in his mouth. "Chill out. Oh my god, it's too damn early for this. I need coffee." Stumbling over to Paul, she took the one that looked the sweetest and took a long sip of it, giving him a thumbs up. "Okay, I can think a little more clearly now. Mark paid me a visit to talk to me about my job…and informed me someone has been sabotaging me. Because ever since I was suspended, fired, whatever you wanna call it, the pranks and bullshit that happened to him, that he thought we did, have stopped." She had to take another long swig of her coffee. "We made a truce. He's not a bad guy…" Mostly, she added in thought, shooting a playful glare over her shoulder at him before looking back at her friends. "We're not at war anymore and we're NOT sleeping together…not sexually anyway." Her cheeks flamed, not believing she'd been caught sleeping on the Undertaker and plucked a donut out of the container. "Now, we can all be friendly with each other, yeah? Please?"

Randy stared down into her face suspiciously. "Not bumping uglies?"

"That's not what you told Cindy, darlin'."

"You shut up or I'll piss in your gas tank."

Yawning even more, Mark stood up and looked down when both men's eyes dropped to his crotch. His fly was undone and he was a commando guy, so everyone got to see what happy trail hairline he did have and the top of his unmentionables. Emery looked ready to burst a vein she was so red.

"That's gross… Em!?"

"I – I swear – I SWEAR to you both we didn't do anything except talk!" Did Mark enjoy humiliating her like this? "Okay we…uh…we need to get on a different topic." She stuffed a donut in Randy's mouth and then Paul's, shaking her head when both eyeballed her. "Do you really think he'd go for someone like me anyway?"

"Yeah."

"Yup."

"You both suck. Just eat your donuts and shut up." There was no way in hell she was telling them about the kiss her and Mark shared. It was none of their business and it'd been to scare Cindy off. "Mark, I'll get your shirt for you." She practically dashed past him to the laundry room, trying to get her face to stop being a cherry.

"Swallow boys, show me your talent." His comment was rewarded with them both spitting out chunks of donuts all over her floor. He began laughing, the booming sound echoing throughout the house. Mark made quite the show of zipping his pants up.

"Oh you son of a-" Randy halted when Paul held out a hand, frowning. "What?"

"You really want her to get mad at you?"

When Randy gave him a dark look, he didn't miss the ice in those blue eyes and his upper lip curled.

After taking a few extra minutes to calm her racing heart as well as let the redness in her cheeks disappear, Emery walked out tossing Mark the t-shirt with a smile. "Stain free, just as promised." The tension was so thick in the room, it couldn't be cut with a knife. "Do you want some…" She blinked when he took her coffee and promptly took a long swig of it, seeing his face contort in both disgust and relief. "I probably should've warned you it's loaded with sugar." It was actually a caramel frappe, but… "Want me to make a pot of coffee so you can fix it how you want?" Emery really wished Paul and Randy would stop gaping at her, rolling her eyes at them.

As soon as Mark and Emery disappeared into the kitchen, Paul groaned. "Son of a bitch, you think…"

"Hell if I know…" This was just weird and they followed the pair, still clutching the coffee and breakfast goodies.

She was making coffee and he was unbraiding her hair because that braid was crazy. "You need a trim, darlin'." Mark pointed out, crouching behind her to finish unplaiting it, throwing Randy a wink. "Got some split ends." Not too many though, considering the length and the weight.

"Fart on him, Em."

"I know – I know. I'll do it eventually. You should know better than anyone what it's like being attached to your hair." Emery remarked softly, not minding him redoing her braid and finished with the coffee pot, reaching up in the cabinet to grab a huge mug. It had the DC logo on it and could fit at least 4 cups of coffee in it easily. "Cream is in the fridge, though…hold on." Making a face, she moved to the side to pop it open and checked the expiration date, nodding. "Yeah it's still good. It's French vanilla. Sugar is in this container. And help yourself to the donuts and whatever else they brought. We won't be able to eat all of it." Finally turning to face him, Emery turned red again because his face was directly facing her… "That's not a good position to be in, Deadman…"

Laughing, Mark moved away from her and ignored the creamer and sugar, preferring his coffee like he liked his women. Strong and able to jolt his mind and body with energy. Smirking, he leaned back against the counter and sipped it.

"You leaving soon, Deadman?"

He shrugged one massive shoulder, still not having put on his shirt. Mark had draped it around his neck instead. "Darlin', mind if I borrow your shower?"

"Nope, go for it. And you can stay as long as you want." Emery smacked his arm lightly when his tongue snaked out to wet his lips, turning red again. "Stop it." His deep rumbling chuckle echoed behind him as he headed across the living room down the hallway toward her bathroom. "Use the Pantene Pro-V, not the Dove, please!" She called over her shoulder, smirking when he growled and heard the door close, laughing softly.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Okay, why are you two staring at me like that?"

"Em, what the HELL is going on?" Randy erupted, setting the donuts down on the table and planted his hands on his hips. "Do you have amnesia or do you not care what he did to you?"

"Yeah! I mean he wrote in black ink on your forehead and called you a dorky chick. What the hell?!"

"And what about the strippers and clown?"

"And being pied in the face?"

Emery sat down at the kitchen table, frowning, the happiness in her eyes gone. "What would you have me do? He showed up at my front door yesterday morning and wanted to talk. So we talked and hashed everything out. He apologized for what he did to me and I did the same thing. I wrecked his motorcycle with spray paint, I shouldn't even be alive right now. He's not as bad as I thought…we actually had a lot of fun playing video games and watching a movie." The kiss flittered through her mind as well, refusing to bring that up. "And he didn't send the strippers and clown either. Whoever was pranking and doing shit to him, they were doing it to me and making us believe we were doing it to each other."

Mark had also taken her on a joyride and beat her backside; he could hear those loud assholes. He cranked the shower on, turning it to ice cold and stepped in. He had judged the size first, not about to get stuck. Emery didn't have a lot of stuff in there, no frilly girly crap and he wasn't really impressed with the Pantene and smelled her body wash, which was just a basic scent.

"And you don't think it was him? At all? Could this just be a giant game on his part?"

That was a good point and it explained Taker's 180 in regard to her.

"If this is a game on his part, then whatever. I don't care. I had fun with him and, until you assholes showed up, a decent night's sleep!" Mark was the one who came to visit her when nobody else had, even though she knew the boys had to stay on the road. "Even though I was suspended, basically fired, he still came here to warn me about someone pulling the strings behind these pranks and bullshit going on. So if he's playing a mind game with me, it's a piss-poor one. Thanks for the coffee and donuts, you can both see your way out." Stalking out of the kitchen, Emery slammed her bedroom door shut and took her pillow, screaming into it.

Randy ignored her drama queen act and gestured for Paul to stay put. He followed her to her room and knocked once before walking in. "Em, I know you don't want to hear it, but what we meant was… what if this all just one giant game? The pranks? He says he didn't do it, but do you know for sure? And saying the shit stopped, which it did, but coming out here to talk about it? Why would he care? It's just something to consider, okay?" He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, don't be mad at me. I'm only saying it because I care."

Emery put her head in her hands, sighing heavily and had to consider the source. "I don't know why, but I feel in my gut he's telling me the truth." Mark didn't know about her actual position in the company, so there was nothing to use against her. If he ever found out that information, however, it would be a different story. "You know me. You know I'm not very trusting and I keep my shields up. It took you and Paul a while to break me out of my shell. This could be a game, you're right, I don't know for sure if he's telling me the truth, but my gut tells me he is. So, I'm gonna go with it and if I get burned, then I get burned. It's not like he'll come see me again because I don't work for the company anymore." She hugged Randy, kissing his cheek. "Thank you for being there for me and for caring. You and Paul mean a lot to me, even if I end up working some place different."

"Like TNA?" At her nod, Randy rolled his eyes. "There isn't a doubt in my mind that you won't be back. Matthew has no idea what the hell he's doing and it's showing. Everyone is trying to figure out how he was in 'charge' all these years, only to start sucking all of a sudden."

"PUT SOME GODDAMN CLOTHES ON!"

"Need another towel." This one only covered part of him and it was soaked already.

"EMERY!"

Rushing out of the bedroom with Randy, Emery immediately regretted it and lowered her eyes to the carpeted floor, turning red AGAIN. "Oh wow…Umm…you need…yeah okay…be right back."

She would NEVER get the image of that man bare assed naked in her living room, dripping wet! Holy fuck, she thought, needing to breathe and pulled out one of her larger towels that would at least wrap around his waist. Preferring bigger towels as opposed to small ones.

"Here you go." She handed it over, refusing to make eye contact with him and tried her damnest not to turn into a cherry.

That was more of the Undertaker than Randy ever needed to see and he groaned, turning his face away.

"Jesus man… where do you hide that thing?"

"Balls deep in your old lady's ass, quit fucking staring."

Paul had deserved that and Randy was smiling in spite of himself. "Take a picture, Paulie…"

"Be a hell of a lock screen."

Emery took control of the situation and managed to shove Mark down the hallway, only because he let her. She'd taken one of the towels, covering his backside with it while shoving, shaking her head. There was no way she could move him otherwise.

"I'll grab your stuff from the bathroom." She muttered, not caring that he was in her bedroom and shut the door, flipping both of her boys the bird when Randy started laughing while it was Paul's turn to look as red as a cherry. Grabbing Mark's clothes, Emery hurried into her room and shut the door so the nimrods couldn't gawk at him. "Here you go. Do you need anything else?"

Mark could think of a few things. He had the towel off his hips and he was slightly bent, toweling his hair dry, his backside right in her line of view. She had walked in on him and he felt no shame whatsoever; he was in the best shape of his life and proud of how he looked.

"Nope, I'm good." He turned to face her. Her height probably made it awkward because now he was eggs up so to speak.

"Okay then, I'll leave you to it."

Emery walked out, making sure not to open the door too much for the boys to gawk again. She walked out to the living room and joined them, seeing they already had Call of Duty on the television. Her home was theirs, it wasn't the first time they came to visit her. That was why Paul had a key and so did Randy. Emery waved off the controller, leaning back against the couch and watched her boys play each other, smirking when Paul beat Randy.

"Oh, our guild has another meeting tonight, so don't forget about it." She reminded her partner, seeing him nod and stood up to go shut the coffee maker off along with putting the donuts away so they didn't go stale. Also, she had to get walking in on Mark Calaway naked in her bedroom out of her mind.

"Why do you think I'm here?" Randy smirked at her before sharing a look with Paul. "We're traveling through this area for shows, so… we figured we'd crash here tonight, if you don't mind." Their bags were out in the rental including his laptop.

"You guys are dorks. So, who was playing Blur?"

That was what had been in the system before he had switched everything out.

"Well…you're not gonna believe it, but…" She poked her head around the doorway that lead to the kitchen and pointed down the hallway toward her bedroom.

"No fucking way!"

"Seriously?! He…" Paul snapped his mouth shut when the bedroom door opened and went back to playing the game.

Emery giggled to herself while finishing in the kitchen, deciding she would have to feed the mongrels since they were staying with her. If Mark joined the fray, she would be shocked, but it would be nice. Sleeping in his arms, on top of him rather, the previous night felt amazing. She'd woken up through the night, seeing he had shifted both of them to lay on the couch with her on top and felt completely content with the position.

"What's for breakfast?" Mark asked with a yawn even as he reached for his now lukewarm coffee.

He drained it and got a refill, needing to go get his bag and change his clothes. Mark hadn't been planning on spending the night. He then idly wondered if she could cook or if she did microwavable meals.

"Hey Deadman, you want to play Call of Duty with us?"

His eyes narrowed when he heard the sniggers.

Randy could not resist and Emery could tell the big man didn't want donuts for breakfast, shrugging. "Let's see…how does eggs, biscuits and gravy and sausage links sound?"

At his nod, she smiled and pulled out everything she would need to make the food. Her mother had taught her how to cook, which was the only thing she'd gotten from her while her father was a geek at heart. Video games, computers…he was incredibly tech-savvy, even at his age.

"You boys still hungry in there?"

"Dumb question, Em!"

"We're bottomless pits – wait, you're gonna cook for us?" Paul said a quick prayer to the heavens, grinning. "Man, we need to come here more often and – GODDAMN IT, ORTON, YOU GOT ME BLOWN UP!"

"Indoor voices, children!" Emery had also changed into new black cotton shorts and dark green tank top, having clothes folded in the laundry room she hadn't put away yet.

Shaking his head, Mark headed out to his truck to get his stuff. On his way back in, he spotted Cindy and waved. When she flipped him off, he began laughing his ass off. Nosy bitch. "Mind if I borrow your bedroom again Queenie?"

"Help yourself, Deadman." She called over her shoulder, busy cracking the eggs in the bowl while the bacon fried in the pan.

She always added bacon bits, crushed, into her gravy and made the gravy from scratch using flour and bacon grease. Emery flipped the bacon and turned on the radio in her kitchen to classic rock, beginning to dance while cooking. Luckily, Mark had braided her hair back for her earlier, fixing it, so she didn't have to worry about getting any in the food.

"We entered the goddamn twilight zone."

"Agreed."

When he came out of the bedroom, he had changed into a pair of faded blue jeans and a black wife beater, foregoing the shoes. Mark had left his still damp hair down and was finger combing it when he padded into the kitchen. Halting, Mark could only stare as she danced while cooking, her hips swaying in time to the music. Smirking, he walked up behind her, placed his hands on her waist and swayed with her, laughing in her ear when she jumped.

"Relax, Queenie."

"That's it, I'm buying you a bell and you're gonna wear it." Mark moved way too quietly for a man his size as she flipped another piece of bacon in the frying pan. She didn't move away from him, continuing to sway and took a piece of bacon to hold up over her shoulder. "Try it and tell me if it's perfect." Emery knew it was and had to suppress a shiver as his mouth engulfed the piece of bacon, his tongue sliding across her fingertips. "Well, how it is and do you mind scrambled eggs?"

"My favorite, if you skip the milk and cook them in butter." Because scrambled eggs were only done one way right. He smirked when she nodded, resting his chin on her shoulder as he watched, both of them still swaying to the music. "And delicious by the way." He whispered in her ear.

Paul was recording it all on his cell phone for posterity. This was wrong, on so many levels.

"Today's your lucky day because I only cook my eggs in butter." Emery flashed a smirk of her own and continued cooking, not minding Mark's hands on her hips or his mouth right by her ear. This felt right, comforting and Randy's warning of this being a mind game flew right out of her mind. "Who is your favorite band?" Emery took him for a classic rock guy and smiled at his answer. "Metallica is pretty damn good, I must say. Their old stuff, especially." No sooner did she say that, Enter Sandman came through the speakers and she laughed at the irony, pouring the eggs in the pan before stirring her gravy, already adding the milk to the browned flour.

Emery was so absorbed in Taker, cooking, dancing and chatting, she was completely oblivious to the fact that Paul was recording this. Randy imagined, if things didn't pan out for them, they could sell the video to TMZ or something for a pretty penny. The Undertaker, dancing in a kitchen, barefoot at that.

"You have some freaky toes, man."

Paul hid the cell.

"Not as freaky as yours, Stubby." Emery shot back, grinning at Randy's scowl and winked at Mark over her shoulder.

If she knew Paul had recorded this moment, she would've socked him in the nose. Some moments were meant to be private. She hated social media because it had ruined wrestling for true fans who enjoyed being legitimately shocked like the old days. The Attitude Era days, where everything was unpredictable, fresh and real.

"Oops, gotta pop the biscuits in." Bending over in front of Mark, since he was directly behind her, Emery already had the oven preheated and shut the door before resuming with the sausage links. "Breakfast will be ready soon, boys. Stop or save the game."

"Where'd you learn to cook?" Mark wondered if it would taste as good as it smelled.

"My Mom, as most girls do. It's the only thing she taught me cause my Dad…he's the true nerd of the family."

The man had 3 computers just in his study and they were all used for different reasons. Granted, Emery owned a few herself, but only brought one on the road with her when she worked for the WWE. Paul and Randy had already vacated, so it was just the two of them again.

"The plates are up there, will you grab them and put them on the table for me?" She smiled as he did as she asked and turned the heat off on the gravy, which was nice and thick with tiny bacon bits throughout it.

Mark set the table without a word, eyeballing everything around him while also paying attention to her and what she was doing. Emery wasn't the geek he had assumed, though she definitely cultivated that image about herself. She said true nerd, but never explained anything beyond that. Shaking his head, he forced it out of his mind. He'd eat and leave before Randy acted on those impulses of his and forced a fight.

After breakfast, Mark announced he was leaving, so Emery walked him outside and made the boys stay inside, though they were watching through the window. "Well, I guess this is it." She slid her hands into the back pocket of her jean shorts and hid her disappointment well, not wanting him to leave. "Take care of yourself, Mark. Thank you for coming to talk to me." Emery didn't do goodbyes very well, watching him toss his bag in the bed of the truck he drove here and kept her eyes on him. "I hope I wasn't too big of a bore."

"It was a trip." Mark said with a shrug.

He definitely hadn't been bored and he had learned quite a bit about the woman under the dorky t-shirts. Like… if she actually applied herself, she could probably be a smoking babe. She already had the body, he knew because he had felt it up close and personal.

"I left my cell number scrawled on that thing you had hanging up on your fridge." When her eyes widened behind those glasses, Mark began laughing. "What?" Was he that bad? Well yeah, Mark was and reached out to push her glasses back up her nose. "Call me sometime, maybe we can link up for a game of Blur."

"What the actual fuck?"

"Get out of the window, dork."

He left his number…Emery beamed brightly and nodded, sky blues twinkling at the memory of their Blur gaming venture. "I will." She stepped back as he got in his truck and blinked when he swept her up into his arms, hugging her close and her arms instinctively went around his neck. "Drive safely, Mark." She murmured in his ear, feeling his arms squeeze her a little tighter and felt the reluctance to release her as he stepped into the truck to fire it up. Emery stepped back, waving her fingers and headed back inside, wondering if she would ever see him again.

"I really hope she doesn't fall for that asshole." Paul grumbled, watching as Emery headed towards the house, the weirdest smile on her face. He had seen that look before, whenever a new gaming system was announced. Instant happiness. That was just wrong. "And if he's playing games with her, I'm breaking his joystick."

"You and me both, but I really mean it. You'd be too busy staring at the damn thing." Randy snorted, shaking his head as he retreated. He'd just watch and wait; if Taker stepped one toe out of line as this weird friendship continued, he'd break the old man's back.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Friday morning, Emery was woken up by a phone call – one she never thought she'd receive in a million years. It was Vince McMahon.

"Emery, you've been reinstated into the company and I need you to fly out tonight to Phoenix. That's where we are right now. Can you make it?" He was beyond desperate; all of his scripts were in the toilet and Matthew had been demoted to a personal assistant for the wrestlers. "You will have a new proxy hired…"

"Really?" Emery stood up from the bed, beginning to pace back and forth, her heart pounding in her ears. "O-Of course I can, of course Vince. I will be there and I'll fix everything. You don't have to worry."

"I hope you realize why you were suspended and we have no other issues from this day forward."

"Understood, thank you again Vince." She hung up and started screaming at the top of her lungs. "OH MY GOD!"

* * *

"A wrestling assistant? Me?!"

Wasn't that what he had been basically all these years? Their personal puppet to abuse when they didn't like the way things were written out. He had gotten the news that morning and gone to find a quiet place to cry and fume. Where had everything fallen apart? Emery was gone, long gone, and she deserved it. All these years she had sent him out to deliver the news, to take the heat, and for what? So she could have her privacy? Her anonymity? And why couldn't he just… do her job? It didn't seem that hard, it hadn't seemed… how had that nerdy bitch managed it? Oh yes, because she had him as her 'proxy'.

Stepping out of her rental vehicle, Emery breathed in the air that was WWE and closed her eyes, relishing the moment. She'd left her hair down for a change, having it trimmed earlier that day before booking her flight along with Randy and Paul. It was just past the middle of her back now and looked a lot healthier. She had a Princess Peach t-shirt on and blue jean shorts since it was hotter than Hades. Dry heat was still HOT. Grabbing her bag, Emery swung it over her shoulder and headed inside, grinning from ear to ear.

"Home." She whispered, once again stopping to breathe everything in and went to find a quiet room to work in.

"You're back?" David had spotted her. He had been in meetings all day long as writers and everyone had been scrambling around trying to sort out what was going.

"Yes, she is." Cheryl, another writer, appeared having agreed to meet Emery here. "She's working for me now. Matthew was demoted." And she was the new proxy. She had been here for years as well, editing mostly and handling Emery's revisions, though she hadn't known it was Emery at the time. "When I was offered the job, I said I wanted her back. I know how valuable to Matthew she was."

"No kidding… he fucked everything up. Love the shirt, Em."

'Thank you.' Emery mouthed to Cheryl before turning to face David, plastering on a smile and shook her hand. "Always a pleasure to see you, Cheri." They were friends, of sorts. She would've much rather dealt with this woman than Matthew any day of the week. Unlike Matthew, Cheryl didn't put up with any crap from the wrestlers and had a backbone. "Hate to run, but we have A LOT of work to do." Dragging Cheryl with her, the girls began talking about all the problems with the scripts and Emery could already tell it was going to be a very LONG couple days. "Wow…"

"Okay, I just want to say this: I knew there was no way some of these lines were from Matthew. There's too much soap opera and hints of romance, which resonates with our female fans. Obviously, that shit came from a woman." Cheryl said with a laugh. "Only a woman in this business is able to understand all the nuances of finer entertainment for our female base; the men are so clueless." Men had come up with the Billy and Chuck wedding thing… that had been a disaster. "So… Vince needs all this redone." She gestured to the paperwork waiting in the office that was 'Cheryl's'. "I'll be in and out, and for the record, everyone thinks you're MY assistant, but… I'm yours. So, just let me know what you need. I can help sort out the scripts for you and I'm good at the editing aspect and finer details." She was part of the crew that got to polish up Emery's gems.

"Welcome aboard, I wouldn't want this any other way except being your assistant because you're just as good as I am." Emery meant that truthfully.

Cheryl was the only one on the writing team, along with her, who actually came up with decent ideas that Emery twisted to her liking. The basics of the ideas were still kept and Cheryl had thanked her several times for keeping it 'authentic'. There was a lot to fix; Matthew honestly didn't know what the hell he was doing when it came to writing…at all.

"Okay, tell the others not to send any more ideas until I get this all sorted out and we'll go through them one by one. Oh, I need to call Karen over on Raw, that's my first priority." Fixing No Way Out had to come first and then everything else afterwards. "You rock, Cheri."

"Karen is on a plane right now, but I have her schedule," Cheryl shuffled through some paperwork. Being an assistant was natural for her, she had done it before landing this gig. "I'll email her for you and set up a time for you guys to talk, okay?" She glanced at her watch. "All right, I've got to go let the others know what's going on." She handed over a business card. "Just text me if you need me. I'll be back later to check in." Cheryl also had to go find Matthew since the little ass had gone into hiding when he found out his new job.

Emery saluted her, both women giggling at each other as Cheryl bounced out the door, letting the lead get to work doing what she did best. Randy and Paul were ecstatic to have her back on the road. There was one person she hadn't told yet, figuring he'd find out sooner or later. It'd been such a whirlwind day and…Emery had forgotten to snatch his number off of her bulletin board at home. What the hell? Matthew was out of his mind as she tossed all of it and cracked her knuckles, beginning to start from scratch, including the match for No Way Out.

"Idiot." She muttered, shaking her head and began going over the paperwork, frowning at all the scribbles and changes to her original ideas.

"Room service." Several hours later, there was a knock on the temporary office door followed by Paul and Randy sweeping in. "Uh, wow…"

It was like she had never left. Emery had utilized the walls for visual mapping of the storylines, who was involved in them, if there were any offshoots… it was dizzying. "We brought you a snack; you've been in here for hours apparently."

They were dropping and going, because Matthew had been found and he was not having a very good time. Paul wanted to go see if the idiot was any better as an assistant to the wrestlers then he had been a writer. Randy just wanted to go gear up and do his thing, but… what kind of friends would they be if they didn't welcome their girl back?

Emery smiled at her boys, deciding taking a 5-minute breather wouldn't hurt anything and turned since she'd been standing, staring at the visuals on the wall. "Thank you boys." She kissed their cheeks, hugging them and took a bite out of the chicken sandwich Randy held, groaning. "Oh my god that is so good!" She said through a mouthful, her stomach rumbling with life. Emery had been so consumed with fixing these storylines, she neglected to take a lunch and thankfully, her boys watched out for her. "Okay, so I have everything worked out for No Way Out and the next week, so far. I just need to get a few more things done and – OH!" She swiped something off her desk to hand it to Randy. "Our meeting has been postponed until tomorrow and one of our has betrayed us. So we're going to expose that son of a bitch." Of course she was talking about WOW.

"Oh that is just… not okay – not okay." Randy grunted, agitation in his tone as he went over it, shaking his head. "Can't trust anyone these days, this is sad."

"What's going on?" Paul began shaking his head when they both just said WoW, rolling his eyes. "Really? That much drama over a computer game? You know they have a website for that game right? Widows of Warcraft or something?"

"Maybe you should join. You just don't understand; some things are sacred, man."

"We've been trying to get you to join for a while, Paulie. You might as well bite the bullet, join our guild and help us reign over everyone." Emery stated matter-of-factly, taking another bite out of the sandwich and then walked back over to the wall, moving one tab to the other side. "Okay, that makes more sense now." She was back in the zone, her element and didn't hear the boys leave, moving another tab. "Okay, I think I got it now." Walking back over, she began typing and let her fingers fly over the keys, pushing her glasses up on her nose. Vince would be ecstatic with these changes, she was sure of it, and if not, then Emery was losing her touch. "Like riding a bike…"

Paul would never play World of Warcraft. For one, he didn't have the patience for the online communities when it came to multiplayer games of this sort. Nothing like arguing with a thirteen-year-old kid about situations to make him realize he was borderline pathetic. Second, he preferred consoles. About the only PC came he did play was turn-based ones like Civilization, or the earlier Fallouts.

"She's back in the zone, let's get out of here."

Nodding, Randy called out a goodbye to Emery, but she was so absorbed in her work, she didn't even notice. Yeah, she was definitely back. He grinned as they closed the door behind them.

It was nearing midnight by the time Emery left the building, dead on her feet and ready to get back to the hotel for some much-needed sleep. She didn't realize the time, too engrossed in fixing everything Matthew messed up in her absence. The arena was rented out by the WWF for 24 hours, so she could stay there up until noon the next day. Paul and Randy had come by again to ask if she needed a ride back to the hotel and all she'd done was shake her head at them. When Emery was in the zone, nobody could pull her out of it until she was ready to leave. Yawning, she pushed open the door that lead to the parking lot and headed toward her rental, the cool wind feeling good against her skin.

"I don't give a fuck what you were promised or told, I'm not-" Mark growled when David actually shoved him, digging his heels into the pavement before he actually was moved. He'd give the punk one thing, he was very strong. "You mess with me, boy, and you'll find yourself six feet under."

"I'm not afraid of you, Calaway." David didn't care much for being referred to as boy, not when Taker wasn't that much older than him. "And you will do this, you have too." It was an order, delivered in a gravelly voice.

"Fuck if I do."

Naturally, this altercation was happening right in front of her rental vehicle, preventing her from leaving and minding her own business. Great. Emery was too tired for this, clearing her throat loud enough to where both men snapped their eyes to her. When would they stop acting like children? She realized Mark was not happy with the line, but to get into an altercation outside of the arena was unprofessional, to say the least.

"Do you two mind taking this little pissing contest somewhere NOT by my car? I'd like to leave and go back to the hotel. All you gotta do is move about 20 feet that way," She paused briefly to gesture the direction she wanted them to move. "And I'll be able to pull out without running you over."

This steroid munching cock bite had started it, but there was no way Mark would say as much, not wanting to sound like a whiny snitch. He folded his arms over his chest and took Emery in, his lips curving into a half smirk. "When'd you get back?"

"Today, asshole." David cursed when he got a fist in the face, hands flying to his mouth. "What the hell?"

"Didn't ask you."

Wincing at the sucker punch, she smiled back at him tiredly, nodding at what David said. "Yeah, today. I was reinstated, thanks to Cheryl, who took over for Matthew. He's been demoted." That was a kind way to put it. Her eyes drank him in, missing him far more than she'd ever admit, even though it'd been a couple days since he left her home in Sedona. "That was her request – my reinstatement in exchange for the promotion Vince pushed on her. She wouldn't have taken it without me on her team, I guess." Why did she feel bad lying to Mark about this? He had completely warped her mind!

"Makes sense I guess, it seems like a pretty overwhelming job…" Mark trailed off with a shrug. "Writing don't seem that taxing to me, but whatever…"

"Writing? They have to coordinate individual storylines, reference them with others going on, worry about little branches from a line, plots, and do you know how many each show has going on?" David had slept with a writer for a while, learning quite a bit before they had split and she had gotten fired.

"How the fuck would YOU know?"

"Pillow talk."

"That's not even half of what the writing team deals with either. For instance," Emery gestured to the two of them at each other's throats, raising a brow. "Wrestlers who are not happy with the lines and try to take matters into their own hands, for example." Not that she blamed Mark and had already told him back in Sedona. This was here and now, however. "And it's not just Mark either, Batista. You've been hounding him and he's getting tired of it. He doesn't like the line, that's on him. Just focus on you, do your job the best you can and everything will work out as it should." Since when did she become the mediator between these two? "Or rip each other apart, but kindly do it away from my car, please and thanks."

At that, both men promptly, in unison, leaned back against her rental and crossed their arms over their chests, staring at her intently. Mark knew he could use Sedona to tear her down, but… that wouldn't be very nice. They had called a truce and he wasn't a big enough asshole to make her first night a drag.

"Queenie, all the other writers have gone, even the head. What're you still doing here anyway?"

That was actually a good question. "Queenie?"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Good, they weren't fighting anymore and she grinned at the nickname, patting her laptop bag hoisted over her shoulder. "I had a lot to do for Cheryl and didn't realize the time until about," She paused, glancing down at the DC watch around her wrist. "20 minutes ago. You both have no idea – NO IDEA – the mess Matthew left behind for us to clean up. And since I'm the lead's right-hand woman, I told her I'd stay behind to fix as much as I could without falling asleep in the arena." It wasn't his business, but since their truce and time in Sedona, Emery didn't mind explaining herself to Mark.

If it was David…she would've blown him off.

"Hope they're paying you serious bucks, that's a lot of bullshit to untangle." David stepped away from the car and Taker, smiling down at her. "Emery, you want to have breakfast with me in the morning? Celebrate you coming back?" His brown eyes were warm and friendly.

Was Emery smiling at that idiot? When were they on good terms like this? That was just gross. "Feeding people your meat again, Davey boy?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"As sweet as that offer is, I can't. Meetings up the ass tomorrow and they start at 6 AM, sharp."

Emery wasn't lying. She'd told Cheryl to inform the writing team they were all going to sit down and go over all the changes she'd made tonight. She took every single person's word to heart and their ideas under consideration, never dismissing anyone. It was the reason she lasted as long as she did on the writing team. Besides, she didn't want to have any kind of meal with David, not after spending time with Mark. He was the one she wanted to eat and talk to; David was in this for the money, fame and that twinkle in his eyes also told her he was interested in more than food. She would not be another notch on his belt. The man was a whore, according to Randy and Paul.

"Besides, she already knows she can enjoy a buffet with me."

Mark had moved to Emery's side and draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in with a smirk, though his venomous green gaze never left the other man. David wanted to go toe to toe with him, fine. Let the games on all fields begin. And the man was obviously interested in Emery for more than a friendship. Not happening, every woman David had screwed in the company wound up fired for one reason or another. Emery had just gotten back, so there was no way he was allowing her to be canned again because of this dick.

"Isn't that right, Queenie?"

He meant something completely different than what he had said and rage flashed in David's eyes, but the smile never faltered.

Now they were fighting over her?

Emery didn't like this one bit, seeing the anger flash in David's eyes and slowly moved away from Mark, shaking her head. "I am NOT getting in the middle of this, whatever is going on between the two of you. Why don't you have breakfast together and sort out your issues, hmm? I have to get some sleep or else I'm gonna be dead at the meetings tomorrow morning. Good night, gentlemen."

Opening her car door, Emery tossed her bag in the backseat and then slipped behind the wheel, starting the ignition to pull out. She yawned again, turning some music on and drove away from both men. Though Emery had to admit, the buffet idea with Mark did sound appealing and she sighed, hoping he understood why she just blew him off in front of David.

"Looks like you got denied too, Calaway."

"She's not one of your whores."

"You think I want to fuck her? Just because I asked her to breakfast?" David snorted derisively. "I'd take her to dinner first, not out for an egg McMuffin. Not unless she's into that kind of thing, then maybe I'd serve her eggs… sunny side up."

Mark didn't even think twice about doing it, just punched David as hard as he could, which was pretty hard. "Sunny side up that one." He sniffed, stepping over the now unconscious man and headed for his Harley.

5 hours later, Emery was up and had gone down the street to the local Starbucks for a triple shot of expresso and the strongest coffee they had. She was going to need it to get through this meeting. It was taking place at an empty office building Vince had rented out for them to use for a couple hours. Upon arrival, she was greeted by all the writers and welcomed back with open arms, hugging all of them. She apologized for what happened, promising to never let it happen again and they were about to make some DRASTIC changes going into No Way Out. It was a couple weeks away and…Karen had come up with the idea to have Mark and David visit Raw in order to add fire to the feud. So, they would be pulling double duty starting Monday.

Another 4 hours later, Emery finally dismissed the writing team and shook hands with all of them, feeling dead on her feet. They had ordered breakfast, but now she was starving since it was a little after 10 AM. Still breakfast time technically, but since she'd already had that meal for the day, Emery decided to have an early lunch as well. Randy and Paul were doing appearances for the company, so she was on her own and walked out of the building, wondering if there was a Subway nearby.

A hand reached out and snatched her back into a doorway. Subway, sure, but there was also a bar that served food. Liquor and lunch, perfect combination. Early lunch, but who ate at a bar?

"So, Karen tells me I'm going to RAW, any truth to that?" When she looked both relieved and annoyed, Mark smirked. "I got pull around here, Queenie, and Karen and I go back."

"Goddamn you!" She started smacking him repeatedly in the arm, knowing it didn't hurt and clutched her chest with her other hand. "Seriously Mark, you're going to give me a damn heart attack or stroke if you keep doing that!" Emery smacked him one more time for good measure, shaking her head at his grin and felt her heart slowly begin dislodging from her throat. "Yes, you're going to Raw on Monday. You're going to ECW as well." Currently, there were three main shows per week – Raw, ECW and Smackdown!. "You're going to scare the shit out of John Cena on Raw, do the same thing to Bobby Lashley on ECW and then finally Batista on Smackdown!. Then the following Monday, you'll make you'll choice on who to face at WrestleMania with your Rumble win. And you have free reign and creative control on how you want to…make your presence felt. Now here's question for you: What are you doing here?" This was an abandoned building on the outskirts of Phoenix.

"Woman, I'll snatch you off any street I damn well please and look," He turned and pointed to the sign hanging over the door. "Bar. Beer. Food. Also, nobody pays me any attention here." One of the reasons why it had become his favorite place here. He made sure to have 'spots' in the places they tended to come back to every year or so, sometimes twice. "Come on, Queenie, come keep me company." Mark pulled her into the bar, heading towards the actual bar. "Now, free reign huh? Your boss okay that?"

Considering she was the 'boss' so to speak, Emery had no problem nodding her head in confirmation. "Yes."

It was very difficult to deny this man anything he wanted, she'd figured that out quickly while in Sedona. She was hungry and the smell of food made her stomach rumble, so she figured it couldn't hurt. If nobody bothered him here, chances were the other Superstars, like David, wouldn't walk in on them eating together. Why was she worried about David anyway?

"What do you recommend here, Deadman? Since this is your 'place'?" She smirked, looking at the small menu in front of her and decided she'd definitely be getting an order of potato skins with extra sour cream.

"All of it, everything is good." Not that there was much to pick from. Fried skins, wings, French fries and onion rings, burgers was about it. "We want an order of everything." He ordered for her. "Beer for me." Mark eyeballed Emery, wondering if she would drink this early in the day and cocked an eyebrow. "And one for her." She would. "So… what's the deal with you and Batista, Queenie?" Why was Batista up her backside and thinking they were friends?

"Do I detect jealousy in your voice, Deadman?" Emery teased, giggling at his snort and took a sip of her beer once it was brought over. The food would more than drown away any chance of a buzz. "Nothing is going on with me and him. He's been nice to me and got me a Rubik's cube lunchbox, but…" She shrugged, looking down at her beer while running the pad of her thumb around the rim of the glass. "I know he's only being friendly towards me because of the line. I'm not stupid." She sincerely hoped that wasn't the case with Mark.

"Why would that matter? You're just a fucking assistant, Queenie. You can't pull any major strings. He wants to fuck you."

That was his opinion, though… giving her a Rubik's cube lunch pail… what the hell kind of courting present was that? One for a geek and Mark remembered hearing about David's old tin lunchbox collection, inwardly rolling his eyes. He couldn't escape this crap to save his life!

"Or he actually likes you." He admitted reluctantly, grudgingly.

If only he knew just how many strings she'd pulled over the years…Emery frowned at his last statement and shook her head. "Then he's stupid." She could be blunt when she wanted to be and dipped a potato skin in the sour cream dipping sauce. "I don't think he likes me and if he does, that's on him. I don't like him. I don't respect him. I think he sucks in the ring, personally, and…he's just not my type." At all, she added in thought, groaning at how good the skin was the moment she tasted it. "So he can take his sweet talking and offers for breakfast, lunch and dinner somewhere else."

"You're a sucker for pain, you know that?" Mark informed her, popping a wing in his mouth, enjoying the burn of the hot sauce. After a few minutes, he washed it down with beer, studying Emery thoughtfully. "He could be genuinely interested in you as a person and you run him the fuck down. I… assault you, and your shit, and here you are, eating with me. Like the abuse, do you?" He winked at her. "My kind of girl."

"No – no I don't like pain. Where the hell did you get that assumption from? And you didn't assault me…you just spanked me. I don't consider that assault. Foreplay, if anything." She laughed when he choked on the bite of chicken wing and took a sip of her beer. "And the only reason you broke my laptop was because I spray painted your bike. And why are we even discussing this? We made a truce, yeah?" Emery eyed him almost shrewdly, taking another skin in her mouth and wiped some of the sour cream from the corner. "And I'm eating with you because you scared the shit out of me and dragged me in here to keep you company." He was far better company than David, though she wouldn't admit it. "And maybe I like hanging out with you because you're not as big of a dick as others think." Emery liked him, period, and she was a fool for doing so, but couldn't help it.

Mark just ate in silence, thinking about what she had said and what he knew about her. He was rapidly reaching the conclusion that she was a sucker for pain, or had been in abusive relationships, because she was justifying everything he had done to her. She was excusing his behavior. He did like a messed-up woman and snorted, draining the last of his beer.

"You're fucked up." He finally started laughing.

"If that's what you think, more power to you." Emery pulled her wallet out to take some money out to pay for her half of the meal, but Mark stopped her. "Mark, you don't have to-"

She sighed when he merely tossed some bills on the counter, took her hand and pulled her out of the bar, both of them stuffed like Thanksgiving turkeys. Did he forget everything she'd done to him too? The bike spray painting, Randy pissing on the seat of the bike, the flyers…Mark had shown a different side of himself in Sedona and now that they were back on the road, nothing had changed. He was the same.

"If I'm fucked up, then what the hell does that make you?"

"Darlin', I already know I'm fucked up." Mark expressed with a wide, teeth baring grin. "I'm just one of the few people who will acknowledge just how fucked up I am. You're still in denial." About a lot of things, he draped his arm around her, tucking her into his side as they walked. "So where are you parked?" He had brought a cab and needed a ride.

"Denial my ass." Emery yelped when he promptly smacked her backside with one hard blow, not expecting it and smirked up at him impishly. "Maybe I am a little fucked up." She laughed, leaning against his side as they made their way to her rental. "Hold on." Stopping in front of it, Emery took her hair out of the bun it was twisted in and flipped it forward to run her fingers through it before flipping it back up. "I did what you said and got the split ends take care of. So, where are we off to, Deadman? Wanna drive or do you want me to?"

Promptly, he grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her back by it, not surprised at all by the sudden flush that spread from her cheeks on down. He'd wager it was spreading over her chest as well. It was an arousal flush and he thought it again. Masochist. Mark studied her hair, nodding.

"Looks good, Queenie." He eyed her. "You're driving and I don't care, why don't you try to surprise me?"

"You really have to stop doing that." Emery muttered, trying to get the flush to go away and involuntarily shivered again, nudging him. Then she drew her hair up several times and finally tied it back in a ponytail, which felt better than the tight bun it'd been in moments ago. "You're an ass, get in."

Slipping behind the wheel, she fired up the car and gestured to the seatbelt, smirking when he reluctantly clipped it. Where could she take this man that would totally shock him? They were in Phoenix so…an idea suddenly popped into her head. Since he didn't have a full knowledge about the nerd side of her, Emery was about to open him up to a whole new world and turned on classic rock.

He just let her drive, staring out the window and watched the scenery. Mark was comfortably full and she had the air conditioning blasting, which was great because Phoenix was hot. Texas was hot, but this was an arid, dry heat that left him feeling like he needed to bathe in lotion. She was singing along to the radio and he shifted to stare at her. Just where would she take him? He was betting a geek convention of some kind.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Pulling up to a weird shaped building, Emery grinned and stepped out of the car with Mark, taking his hand. "Come on Deadman it won't be that bad and nothing will bite you. I don't think." She giggled at his incredulous look and guided him inside beaming at the wall to wall comic books strewn through the store. "This is the best comic book store ever."

"As I live and breathe...Emery Collins… where have you been all my life?"

Not releasing Mark's hand, Emery grinned at the older gentleman and gave him a one-armed hug. "Frank, love of my life. How the hell are you?"

"Getting by, beautiful."

She had brought him to a comic book store and it was… who the fuck was Frank? Mark let go of her hand, walking away to start eyeballing the stuff on the wall. When he was a kid, he remembered reading the Sunday paper, just to read that particular section. Comics had sold by dimes and quarters. These items were expensive these days. Mark noticed HIS comic and began smirking. That had been years ago when it was made.

"So who is the guy?" Frank nudged his head in the giant's direction, wondering if Emery had lost her mind to hang out with someone like that.

"You don't recognize him?" When Frank kept eyeballing Mark for a few more seconds, his eyes widened and she started laughing, nodding. "Pick your jaw back up, Frankie. Yes, that's exactly who you think it is."

"How the hell did you manage to bring HIM here, of all places?"

"Well this is the best damn comic book store on planet earth. Why wouldn't I visit my favorite guy?" Emery winked, looking over at Mark who was admiring his own comic book. It was a mint condition copy, as was everything else in the store. "We were in town, figured I'd stop by and see if you have anything new for me."

Frank chuckled, nodding and gestured her over behind the counter while her…friend browsed the sections.

"OH MY GOD, seriously?!" Emery was afraid to touch the comic book he'd pulled out, sky blues wide and hesitantly took it with the utmost care. "This is a first edition…Frank, how?"

"I saw that and immediately put it up for you. That's the first Green Arrow comic book ever made. Mint condition, not a scratch or flaw. It's worth a pretty penny and I knew nobody would appreciate it more than you."

"How much?" Emery was already digging out her wallet, shaking a little and pulled her credit card out. "Frankie, no…"

"Consider it a belated birthday gift." He kissed her cheek in a purely platonic way and chuckled when she tossed her arms around his neck. "You're welcome, Ems."

"My Dad is going to freak out when he sees this."

She was geeking out over a comic book and he was not surprised at all. Mark returned the comics he had been browsing back to their shelves. He already had his serial, all signed by the artists, and in a vault somewhere along with a lot of memorabilia. If she had been a wrestling fanatic, he could have probably shown her his collection and made her cream her panties.

"Mark." He held out his hand when he got close, the guy, Frank, staring at him.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

Frank shook his hand firmly with a friendly smile, not believing Emery had brought the Undertaker into his store. They began conversing while Emery continued gawking over her newest acquisition. When Taker asked how he knew her, he decided to fill the big man in.

"Em is a good girl. Known her since she was a little girl. Her Dad used to bring her in here at least once a week shortly after I opened. They lived in Scottsdale and would make a father/daughter trip up here every weekend to see me. I've known her and her family a long time. She's like a daughter to me or something. Anyway, find anything you like?"

"Yeah, your surrogate daughter… I'm thinking about taking her home with me."

"What?" He was joking, right? Frank didn't know the man other than what he had seen on television.

Mark smiled, green eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm just teasing, sir." Not really, he just wanted to see Frank's reaction. "I'd take her out to dinner first."

Emery never picked out normal people, did she? He sighed wearily. "We need to have the talk, son?"

"Sure." This could be amusing.

"What kind of talk would that be, Frankie dear?"

Frank smirked, groaning when she hopped on his back in a piggyback ride and shook his head, looking over his shoulder at her. "Aren't you a little old to be doin' this to me?"

"Nope. Never too old to have fun, you should know that." Kissing his cheek, she hopped back down and finally moved to stand beside Mark again, her comic book in the plastic store bag she held at her side.

"He said he was gonna take you home and I wanna make sure he's got good intentions."

Not missing a beat, Emery shrugged with a smile. "He's already been to my house, so I wouldn't mind seeing his."

"WHAT?!"

Emery started rolling with laughter at Frank's face.

"I followed her home." Mark declaimed with a shrug, resting his arm on the top of her head just because she was the perfect height for it. "And then taught her how to handle a joystick right."

"What the-"

"Video game, man. We were racing, had to teach her how to thumb it right." He even gestured, looking a little too innocent.

"You take him to meet your folks yet?"

"No, why would I?" Emery tilted her head, looking confused and then felt her eyes widen, cottoning onto what Frank was insinuating. "Wait – wait, no Frankie, no we're not – no. No, it's not like that. We're…friends." That was the right term to use, right? "We're not bumping uglies or anything like that."

Frank sputtered. "B-Bumping uglies?! Emery Collins!"

"Well you know, we're not doing the horizontal salsa…"

"Oh dear Jesus…"

"I'm not whacking the salami…" Emery couldn't resist continuing.

"ENOUGH! I got it. You two, not together. Got it." Frank was going to have a heart attack hearing her talk like this. "Just…keep it that way and if you do end up…together, you should introduce him to your folks."

There was no way Mark saw her as desirable in any capacity.

"Wait, wait, wait…" Mark held up his hands, a bit confused. "In order to fuck her, I have to meet her folks? And just what the hell, Queenie, is wrong with bumping uglies with me? I'll have you know, there isn't anything ugly with my-"

"Jesus Christ, you are nothing like your character!" Frank interjected, a bit bemused and somewhat freaked out. "You're nothing, but a foulmouthed bas-"

"What was that?" Mark's hand was firmly around Frank's throat, not hurting him, but… not letting him move either. His voice had dropped to pure venom, darkness lacing each word. "Foulmouthed what? Hmm?"

"Bastard."

"Fair enough." He let the other man go, grinning again. "Not fazed a bit, are you?"

"I own a comic book store, you are the LEAST scary person I've seen in here."

Emery was startled when he throttled Frank, having every intention of saving her old friend and father figure, but when Mark let him go joking, she immediately calmed down. "I don't think he was implying you HAVE to meet my parents to have sex with me. He was just saying IF we did end up together, then you should meet them."

Why would he even want to? Didn't he think of her as a dork chick? Yes, yes he did. This was a pointless conversation. Mark was making a point, in his own volatile way and it somewhat turned her on. Maybe she really was 'fucked up' as he so eloquently put it earlier.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Sounds pretty damn sure to me." Did Emery have any idea what kind of man she was currently hanging out with? "No, I'm fine."

"Good."

"For the record, if I had hurt him, what were you going to do, Queenie?" His tone was drenched in amusement as he stared down at her. She had looked ready to spring on him; did Emery even know how to defend herself? Life wasn't like a video game. "Hitting the X and triangle button won't take me down, you know that, right?"

"Oh for the love of…"

"There's always a way to drive a big man to his knees, Mark. And don't you forget it. Frankie has known me since I was little and I protect my family." Emery didn't appreciate being challenged, folding her arms in front of her chest and smiled sweetly at Frank. "He calls me Queenie because of my video game expertise."

"Son, you have no idea just how great she is." Meaning that on all accounts, not just the video gaming. "And I can hold my own, Ems. Don't need you fighting my battles for me."

"When it comes to him, yes you do. He's not an ordinary man, if you haven't noticed."

Frank cleared his throat. "Sure did." He really hoped the Undertaker didn't hurt Emery or he would find a way to hurt the big man.

"So… let me get this straight," He drawled, green eyes flashing acid for a moment as he measured her thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "You cook, you're a video game whiz, you're an obviously skilled writer, and now you're apparently capable of taking down a man my size. You don't really have much of a personal life, do you?"

"I didn't say _I_ knew how to do it, now did I? I just said there are ways to get it done." Emery snorted, rolling her eyes at him and could tell Frank was trying not to laugh. "Traveling with the WWE all the time, don't really have time for a personal life."

"Hell no you don't, when's the last time you visited your folks anyway?"

"It's been a while."

Emery didn't tell them about her suspension, not until she knew whether she was completely gone from WWE or not. Thankfully, she hadn't jumped the gun and told them. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her parents after working so hard to get to where she was today.

"I'll go see them soon-ish."

"You'd better."

"Yes Dad."

"You don't see them much, do you?" Miss Had No Personal Life, he snorted at the look she gave him and rolled his eyes. She was perfect for the traveling gig then, never seeing her loved ones, no personal relationships outside of her best boyfriends and, apparently, now him.

"How well do you two know each other?" Not a lot came to mind and to be honest, Frank was a little curious about their relationship.

"I know she sucks at Blur, but makes damn fine scrambled eggs."

"I really don't know much about him other than he does great at Blur and is a damn fine kisser." Emery grinned, shrugging at his arched brow while staring down at her and glanced at the clock. "Oops, we should be going. Got a show tonight and unfortunately, duty calls." She hugged Frank tightly around the neck, squeezing him and whispered 'thank you' in his ear for her magnificent gift. It would be a fine addition to her other comic books, which was vast. "It was so good seeing you again, Frankie." Pulling back, she kissed his cheek and blushed when he tapped her nose with his finger. A habit he'd done since she was a little girl. "I'll try to be back soon."

Frank nodded, understanding why she had to leave and eyeballed the giant shrewdly, watching them walk out of his store shaking his head.

"Well that was fun! And I bet you lost your comic book store virginity, didn't you?"

At that, he outright laughed, shaking his head. "Darlin', with as old as I am… no. When I was a kid, I used to go visit the one downtown all the time and the old arcade. I loved Donkey Kong." Mark rarely saw them anymore, not like he remembered. Now they were all flashy shooter games and dancing things. "Shit, I'm old, thanks for the reminder, Queenie." He cleared his throat, deciding he would avoid dating himself anymore. "What was the comic he gave you?"

"Donkey Kong was good, but nothing compared to Mario, of any kind." Emery looked down at the bag, her eyes sparkling and heaved a gentle sigh. "He shouldn't have done it. He should've sold it and made the money." Now she was talking to herself, sliding behind the wheel and pulled the comic book out of the bag carefully. "The very first edition of Green Arrow – mint condition. Never opened, never touched…it's incredibly rare. And he just gave it to me." Emery sounded in awe, shaking her head when he reached for it and immediately slid it back in the bag. "Nope, that's where I draw the line, Calaway. You don't touch the comic books, especially this one. But it's nice to know you have a geek inside of you after all."

"You do know Donkey Kong came first, right?" He asserted conversationally, ignoring the look she shot him. "Without it, Mario probably wouldn't have taken off. Mario was the 'opponent' in the game. It was like… four or five years after that the Mario games started coming on." On the original Nintendo, Mark remembered that; it had been after he had graduated school. He could remember playing some dirt bike racing game that was really crappy in retrospect and the 2nd Mario game, which had been confusing as hell.

"Did you forget who you're talking to here, Deadman?" Emery remarked, starting the car and drove away from Frank's comic book store, feeling a sense of sadness wash over her. It was always hard to say goodbye to him, even more so than her parents. "Mario is still better, but I do agree with you that Donkey Kong helped launch Mario's popularity. That and Yoshi." Her favorite Mario character. "They don't make games like that anymore. I remember Mario Kart on the Nintendo 64. I would play that game for hours on end and my Mom would get so mad cause my Dad was the same way." Deciding to switch topics, Emery stopped at a red light and glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye. "You seemed kinda…perturbed when I told Frank we weren't together. If I offended you, sorry."

"No, Queenie, not perturbed, more a little whiplashed by the way you said it. You couldn't seem to get it out fast enough, ashamed of me?"

Yoshi was a stupid dinosaur and he had skipped the 64 along with pretty much everything else up, until recently That was only because systems had become portable and he needed a way to wind down that didn't involve strippers or luring women to his bed. Apparently, he was getting old. Or just tired of the games.

"Or are you still playing innocent virgin with your family?"

"Why would I be ashamed of you? There's nothing to be ashamed of." Emery pushed her glasses up her nose, looking back at the road as the light turned green. "We're not together though, not the way Frank was thinking. And my family knows I'm not a virgin. Being a virgin at age 30," She paused when his eyes shot open and chuckled, nodding. "Yeah – me – 30-years-old. You really think I'd be a virgin by now? Not very realistic and my parents don't think that at all. Frankie is a little…old-school, but still a great man. I'm anything but innocent." Then she decided to ask him the one question that refused to leave her brain. "Do you think of me as anything other than a coworker/friend? Are you…attracted to me or were you just pulling Frankie's leg back there?" Believe it or not, she hadn't been as engrossed in the comic book as she made them believe, hearing every word spoken between the men.

Mark had to think about that, wondering if she had worded that virgin line wrong; maybe she was a little on the frazzled side. He already knew she wasn't a virgin, she had to many tells about her preferences. Mark bet he could tie her up and leave her there, after he was done ravishing her, and she would still pass out without a care. He'd even let her keep on the glasses, add in some pigtails… could be hot. Was hot. He had an erection and mentally slapped himself.

"You're my friend, aren't you, Queenie?" He shot back, gauging her expression. "I'd fuck you though."

"Yes, friends. And – what?" Emery blinked, not expecting to hear that out of his mouth and started laughing, though it was a nervous laughter. "Wait, you're serious? You'd actually have sex with someone like me?"

That was…interesting information. She didn't think Mark looked twice at women like her, the nerdy kinds. Hell, he'd gotten her out of her shell and she'd shown him her true personality that Randy and Paul helped her create. Without those boys, she probably would've continued being the quiet, shy mouse she'd been when Randy first debuted in the company back in 2002.

"Well then, same goes for me. Fucking you, I mean. Who wouldn't though, right?" Another nervous laugh. "Anyway…" Time for a new topic.

"Yeah, who wouldn't?" He echoed, shaking his head and looked away, so she could blush in peace.

She was nervous and he knew he was treading into stupid territory. Emery was a writer and that was something he didn't need, getting involved with someone who had influence on what happened to his career. Especially after everything they had done to each other.

"Take me back to the hotel, Queenie. I should get in a workout." Or shower time, either or possibly a cat scan.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Confused by his sudden tone, Emery just nodded and kept her mouth shut, knowing she'd upset him for some reason, though she had no idea how or why. She replayed the conversation in her mind, trying to decipher which part annoyed him or upset him. Nothing came to mind. Once she pulled up to the hotel, Emery stopped him from getting out by grabbing his wrist and felt breathless as emerald snapped to warm sky blue.

"Thank you for coming with me today and for lunch. I had a great time with you, Mark." Then she released his wrist so both could exit the car and walked inside the hotel, both taking the stairs before going their separate ways to their rooms.

Emery was definitely a weird one. Interesting, but weird. Sometimes predictable; actually, a lot of her was probable. What kept Mark coming back was the way she would have him thinking he had her all figured out and then she would throw one hell of a wrench into everything to where he felt like he had to start over. He liked that. He also went with the shower. Groaning, Mark leaned back into the tile wall, feeling the water beating down on him and a flash of vivid blue eyes behind a pair of steamed glasses filled his mind.

* * *

"Randy, you got one on your left!"

"SHIT!"

It was Monday night after the house show. Emery pounded on the keys of her laptop, sitting in her hotel room with her tongue sticking out the side while taking down the traitor in their guild. "On your right! Come on!"

Randy's character in the game caught him with a perfect aimed shot, his weapon of choice bow and arrows. "Bullseye!"

Rubbing her hands together, Emery knew this was the moment they'd waited for and started cracking her whip on the traitor. She typed up some dialogue for her character to say before slicing their head off without preamble. Her weapon of choice was a huge sword.

"Well done boys and girls! BRB." Her cell phone rang on the nightstand as she leaned over to pick it up, answering it. "Hello?"

Randy groaned into mic, knowing with her, anything could take her attention away at this hour. He eyeballed his Rogue, then started eyeing the loot from their little battle. His EXP wasn't much, it had been divided, unfortunately.

"Emery, you have to get me my old job back." It was Matthew and he didn't bother greeting her, just got right down to business. "I can't deal with this anymore. I can't be the wrestlers' personal assistant; they're making this personal because they think I was out to ruin their careers! I need you to help me make this right!"

Raising a slow brow at Matthew's pleading, Emery wondered briefly if this was a joke and instantly knew it wasn't. She could hear the pleading in his voice, the panic and smirked, shaking her head. "No can do, Matthew. What Vince says goes. Besides, Cheryl and I are a great team." She wanted to tell this idiot Cheryl was a better proxy than him, but decided against it. "You should be happy you're still employed by the WWE, Matthew. You completely DESTROYED the scripts during my brief suspension. We've spent a great amount of time over the past 72 hours fixing your fuck-ups and finally got everything the way we want it. So no, I'm sorry, but you're not writing team material. Try to find something you do like about your position or quit. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed." Not waiting for a response, she hung up on him and returned to WOW with Randy, telling him what happened and both of them laughed.

Matthew could only stare at the phone in his hand, blinking back tears of frustration. After all he had done for that ungrateful bitch over the years! He had been her 'proxy' because she hadn't wanted people to know she was the lead writer. He had dealt with the wrestlers when they didn't approve of the changes she had written – like the Undertaker. That would always come to mind after what had happened with the rental car. And this is how she repaid him?!

* * *

After the week of traveling hell for Mark, he finally made his choice and ball was rolling heading toward No Way Out. It would be a tag team match Mr. McMahon announced on Smackdown with Batista and Undertaker VS John Cena and Shawn Michaels. The two WrestleMania main events squaring off against each other in a star-studded tag match. Emery had to admit, it sounded amazing and she couldn't wait to see it unfold. Even Cheryl was excited! Matthew never liked any of her ideas, always worried about the consequences and possibility of getting his backside handed to him. She'd told him time and time again to report the wrestlers that put their hands on him, but he never listened. Cheryl had a good hearty laugh when Emery told her about the phone call and then hugged her, thanking Emery for being on her side. They were becoming closer friends and it was nice having a girl for a friend instead of always hanging around guys.

Emery hadn't seen much of Mark over the past couple weeks, though he did have a HECTIC traveling schedule to say the least. Pulling double duty for Raw and Smackdown!, temporarily, had to wear on the big man. She left him alone and focused on her job, figuring if he wanted to bug her or talk, he'd come to her when he was ready. It bothered her a little because of their last conversation. The fact he said he'd have sex with her…she couldn't get it out of her mind. Why would a man like him go for someone like her when there were so many more beautiful women on the WWE roster? It didn't make sense to her and Randy's words of him playing a mind game on her also flittered through Emery's mind a time or two. Damn that Orton!

Before long, it was one week to No Way Out and Emery felt restless in her hotel room, staring up at the ceiling. She didn't feel like gaming, she didn't feel like playing on WOW and decided a swim was in order. The hotel had a great pool downstairs and it was private, only WWE Superstars were allowed inside after hours. Glancing at the clock, Emery figured a swim would help burn some of her energy away as she slid from the bed to pull out her swimsuit. It was black, one piece, nothing fancy or sexy. She quickly pulled it on, leaving her hair in the braid it was in and wrapped a cotton robe around her body before heading out, wallet in hand with her key card.

"You need to swim more, it's good for you."

"Now lil darlin', if I knew you were going to be waiting for me in the pool, I might try it more."

"Oh sure, I'll just quit my job here as a glamorous physical trainer and follow you around from place to place. Who'd pay for that?"

Considering that her brand of physical therapy had involved being in the water, which had worked wonders on his aching joints. Even helped soothe some of the tenseness he had been feeling after flying all over the place… he'd consider it. "I'm sure you could… earn your keep." He smirked when she giggled, his eyes moving past the brunette to the door when his favorite geek walked in.

Not doing it often, sometimes Emery wore contacts for such occasions as this. Before coming down, she swapped her glasses out for clear contacts and kept blinking because they slightly burned. It was obvious she wasn't used to wearing them. At least her vision wasn't blurry, so that was a plus. When she spotted Mark in the pool with another woman, however, Emery suddenly wished she didn't put the contacts in and her vision was blurred. She gave a half wave, plastered on a smile and set her stuff down at one of the nearby vacant tables. Then, she took a deep breath and took the rope off, hanging it over the lounge chair before diving into the deep end. Mark was currently in the middle of the pool between the shallow and deep-end, so she wouldn't disturb whatever was going on between him and the brunette.

She was wearing no glasses with a one piece and Mark had to bite back the urge to growl when the brunette snapped her fingers in his face to get his attention. "Sorry, darlin', what was that?"

"I'm leaving you my number, I'll set it with your stuff." She hesitated, glancing at the mousy woman who had just come in and distracted him. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure – sure." Mark was already waving her off, curious if his geek could see without her glasses.

Doing laps would burn energy off as Emery went back and forth, sticking to the deep-end. She'd taken swim lessons as a child, one of the only things her mother forced her into and she enjoyed it. Not as much as video games or comic books, but it was still enjoyable. Emery used her feet to propel herself off the wall and began another lap, only to bump into what felt like a brick wall. She immediately surfaced, breathing heavily and looked up into the acidic eyes of Mark, who had snuck up on her.

"Hi." That sounded lame coming out of her mouth and Emery looked around quickly while blinking water out of her eyes to make sure she hadn't veered off course. "I didn't…interrupt you, did I?"

"We were long done, she just didn't realize it." He said in return, frowning as he bent to peer down into her eyes. She could see just fine. "Contacts?" At her nod, he did too. "Why not wear them all the time?" Because her eyes popped… and when they were hidden behind her glasses, nobody ever realized it. On second thought… "Stick with the glasses, Queenie. They suit you better." Those eyes were only popping for his pleasure. Mark caught the trainer glaring at them from the edge of the pool, gathering he would not be getting her number and blew her a kiss, laughing when she huffed off.

"I hate contacts. I only wear them for certain occasions, such as right now swimming. Wouldn't be very smart of me to jump in water with chlorine and ruin my glasses, now would it?" Emery caught that exchange and shook her head, kicking her legs to keep from going under the water. When his attention returned to her, her heart began pounding a little faster and she prayed he couldn't hear it. "So how've you been? I watched Raw, that was awesome how you rose up from the top of the stage. Cena looked ready to piss himself." She laughed, recalling seeing actual TEARS in the man's eyes.

"I don't know. I spent most of my time getting to the spot, dressing up, doing the bit, and rushing right out the door again." He explained truthfully, glad that hectic schedule was over.

Mark preferred the routine of just traveling from place to place now; it meant what downtime he did have wasn't spent plane jumping. He had spent the night with a pretty little thing who had also massaged away some aches and pains. Not that he would ever tell her that. Mark could be a gentleman and he tried not to do the kiss and tell thing. He had, when there was good reason to, or he wanted to hurt someone, but… no reason now.

"Enjoying being back?" He leaned backwards, treading the water.

"Of course and it's even better now that Cheryl is in charge of everything instead of Matthew."

Emery smiled at his nod, her curiosity burning about the woman he'd been in here with only moments ago. Why did it matter? The man wasn't hers and never would be; they were just friends that occasionally talked. Any feelings she had for this man had be squashed, even if he said he would screw her. Hell, Randy and Paul had said the same thing! Didn't mean she wanted to jump into bed with them.

"At least you can get back to a semi-decent traveling schedule."

Then she started doing laps again, her body slicing through the water and Emery was suddenly thankful for the cold water. The sight of Mark soaking wet in just black trunks…definitely thankful for the cold water. Mark pulled himself up out of the pool, but remained sitting on the ledge, letting his legs and feet dangle in the cool water. He just watched her swimming laps, admiring the clean strokes as her lithe body cut through the water. Leaning back, Mark's hands splayed on the cement and flipped his wet hair back behind him, water droplets going everywhere, including down his bare chest. She was a geek. A writer and had decent taste in music. Could cook well and was arrogant and cocky. She was a bitch and a deviant… and he was grinning.

Only when she began feeling the burning in her arms did Emery finally stop, not bothering to keep count how many she'd done. She looked up at Mark, seeing he'd stuck around and watched her, causing her cheeks to flare up in color. She ducked under water again and swam over to him, pulling herself out of the water with ease to plant right beside him.

"Did you enjoy watching me?" She side-eyed him, seeing him nod and nudged him playfully, pulling her braid over her shoulder to start wringing the water out. "I haven't done that in a while. Felt good."

Her restlessness was still there, however, the energy still blazing for some unknown reason. Even if her arms did burn from all the laps she'd done, it didn't quell whatever was going on with her. Maybe a one-night stand is what she needed, though it wouldn't be with anyone from the company. Every once in a blue moon, she needed certain needs met and would take care of the problem, wondering if that was her issue while she stared out at the water. Maybe going out with Cheryl to a bar or something to find someone to take her frustrations out on was just what the doctor ordered. Wouldn't be the first time she did something like that; like Emery had told Mark, she wasn't a saint, but there was no way she had as many sexual partners as he did.

"Hey Deadman." That greeting was immediately followed by Taker going face first into the water. David stood there, in his own swimming attire, laughing like a maniac as he watched Taker come up sputtering. It wasn't often someone took the big dick by surprise. "You looked a little flushed around the collar."

"Keep earning those ass whippings, bitch boy." Mark growled coldly, contemplating drowning the bastard right here and now.

The only thing that stayed his hand was the fact he didn't want to have to kill Emery too, not liking leaving witnesses. Emery frowned, seeing the cocky smirk on David's face and then looked back at Mark, sky blues narrowed. When David turned his back, still gloating at Mark and not paying attention to her, she decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. Standing, she booted him as hard as she could right in the backside and sent him face first into the pool, watching him resurface sputtering water. Winking at Mark, she grabbed her robe and pulled it on, deciding it was time to end this night. Batista had effectively ruined her time with Mark and, for some reason, it annoyed her.

"You looked like you needed a cool down yourself, Batista."

Peace was not to be hers because David had assumed she was playing around and scrambled out of the pool. Robe and all, she was back in the pool. He had tucked her up against him and cannonballed in, making sure she was safe and sound against him. Emery was fine. but she looked pissed and that idiot didn't even realize it, thinking they were just having a grand old time. Mark decided to watch and see what would happen, knowing she had a demon streak and hoped she unleashed it, smirking.

"What the HELL is wrong with you?!"

Emery shoved away from him and didn't bother holding back, slapping the taste out of his mouth as hard as she could. The smack echoed around the pool area, her sky blues nothing more than ice. She was pissed off from his antagonistic ways against Mark, but to forcefully bring her back into the water…he definitely had that slap coming.

"He was right about you, on all accounts." Snorting at David's shocked state, Emery swam away from him with robe still on and pulled herself out of the pool, groaning since this was the only thing she brought with her to go back to the room. "Asshole!" Growling, she took the robe off and just left it, storming out of the swimming area with steam rolling figuratively out of her ears.

"What the fuck is her damage?"

"PMS, I suppose."

Mark smirked, remembering that line back in the day – that little group. Pretty Mean Sisters, or as Terri had said on more than one occasion: Putting (up with) Men's Shit. Seemed legit. On his way past, David, he made sure to drive his elbow into the back of the other man's head.

"Touch her again however, and I'll castrate you."

"Fuck…" David hissed, cradling his head, eyes clenched shut in pain.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"So let me get this straight: you wanna go out to a bar? You feeling alright, Emery?"

"Yeah, why?" There was no way she would tell Cheryl her reasoning for doing this, still feeling that restlessness. She also hadn't told anyone about slapping the hell out of Batista either, still angry at him for what he did to her. "Come on, I'm sick of the hotels and need a change of scenery. Please?"

"Randy and Paul don't want to go or…?"

"I want to go out with a woman for a change. We're around so much testosterone working for this company. It could be a girl's night…unless one of us gets lucky." They had a good laugh at that. "Come on, I won't have you out too late."

Cheryl thought it over for a minute, eyeing Emery and decided she would do it…on one condition. "I'll go…but there's something you need to agree to."

Emery had a feeling she wouldn't like this. "Depends what it is…"

"You let me do your look for the evening. That means, no glasses or t-shirts or jeans…" Cheryl had an idea of how she wanted Emery to look, eyes gleaming. "Come on, let me do a makeover on you and we'll go out to paint the city red. Deal?"

Having a feeling she would regret doing this, Emery reluctantly nodded and hoped Cheryl didn't go overboard.

Cheryl didn't go overboard, not by her standards, but given Emery's habit of dressing like a dude… she'd probably disagree. She took her time, doing Emery's hair, makeup, everything had to be perfect. Emery was a beautiful woman, so gorgeous, but she was constantly hiding it under jeans and t-shirts along with her glasses. Maybe Emery just didn't realize her good fortune with that creamy, unblemished skin, beautiful cheekbones and vivid blue eyes. By the time she was done, the other woman wouldn't recognize herself.

"Okay, outfit time and then you can see the finished product." She held out the garment bag, smiling. "Please?"

"Are you sure about this?"

Emery stared at the outfit, looking back at her friend and groaned when Cheryl pushed her into the bedroom to change. Thankfully, she hadn't picked out a dress because Emery would've strangled her. Why did she agree to do this? Oh right, she wanted to get laid and have this restlessness sated for a while. Sighing, Emery pulled on the black leather skinny pants, grunting at the material sticking to her legs like glue. Then she looked at the top and shook her head, looking down at the black bra she had on. There was no way she'd be able to wear a bra with this top. Off it went. The top was dark red and somewhat ragged looking, sleeveless with black straps over the shoulders.

It clung to her curves, pushed her breasts out and accentuated the body beneath the t-shirts and jeans she usually wore. Pulling on the two-inch knee high black leather boots, Emery zipped them up from the side and finally took the jewelry that would be the 'cherry' on top of the look, as Cheryl put it. Clipping the gold and dark red necklace on, she added the round matching gold earrings and finally stepped out of the bedroom. Her hair was left down, curls throughout it for style and bounce. The makeup was dark red gloss, black liner with a gold accent and foundation to hide any blemishes. Emery had also taken her glasses off for the night and had clear contacts in, seeing Cheryl's eyes widen upon seeing her.

"Oh god, it's bad isn't it?"

"Girl, no – hell no, this is not bad. This is GOOD."

Cheryl had taken the time to touch up her own makeup and slip into her own outfit. Her hair was always done because she was a self-professed girly girl. That and she had her eye on some fine man candy that she was hoping would one day send a glance her way.

"Did you even look at yourself, Emery?" Shaking her head, she took Emery by the hand and led the other woman to the full-length mirror, pushing her in front of it. "Look at yourself, you are a smoking hottie! Men will be FALLING at your feet tonight, I promise you that!"

The reflection staring back at her Emery didn't recognize, her eyes widening. "This is…me?"

She took her time to look at herself from the tips of the leather knee-high boots all the way up to the top of her hair. Her hair currently settled over her shoulders and down her back, stopping just past the mid-mark. Emery hadn't dressed up like this in…ages. The last time she looked a fraction like this, it'd been prom and even then, she had braces.

Now…

"Thank you, Cheryl." She beamed, turning to hug the woman lightly and grabbed her hand, slipping her wallet in the matching gold purse that went with the outfit. "Come on, time to get our party on." They laughed, walking out the door to start the night. "By the way, men will be falling at YOUR feet. You look stunning."

"Of course I do." Cheryl playfully tossed her hair, the light catching off her highlights and smirked. "I always look good." She looped her arm through Emery's. "Let's go prowl, shall we?" Because, if they were honest, that's exactly what this was.

"Prowl…I like the sound of that."

Emery did the cat claws with her painted black fingernails, which Cheryl left alone. All she did was touch them up, but other than that the color wasn't changed. It went with the outfit, so there was no reason to waste time on them. They drove around the city and finally stopped at a local dive that looked rather busy. Parking the car, Emery looped her arm through Cheryl's and they walked in together, the music loud, but not so much as to hurt one's ears.

"Let's get our drinks first!" She called out to Cheryl, watching her nod and walked up to the bar, waiting their turn.

Mark was not in the mood for a peroxide blonde in low cut jeans that showed off what he was assuming was a big fake diamond glued into her belly button. That couldn't be very clean… gross. He shot her a dark look, threatening violence with his eyes and she took off. He just wasn't in the mood, period. Sitting in a corner booth, Mark was hidden from the majority of the room, but able to see everything. The bar. The people dancing on the floor. The pool tables. He lulled his head back, eyes closed as he waited for his next drink, just enjoying being left alone.

Arriving at the local bar, Mark wore black jeans and a black leather vest, hair pulled back into a tight braid and it all held in place with a black bandana. He had also brought his motorcycle and he dared anyone to screw with it. Mark might be in the mood for a brawl. When he heard his bottle being set down, he leaned forward, nodded his thanks and then paused, glittering emerald eyes narrowing in on the woman who had just strutted into the bar.

After they got a beer for Emery and a vodka tonic for Cheryl, they headed to one of the booths on the other side of the bar. "Someone is eyeing you already, Cheri." Emery teased gently, winking and took a drink of her beer, looking around the bar to scout possibilities for the evening. So far, nobody stood out to her, but the night was young.

"Come on girl, let's dance!"

Cheryl pulled her friend up from the booth as they both headed for the dance floor, ready to let her hair down and get crazy for a change. It appeared Cheryl was also restless; work had been quite the hassle and headache lately, but she handled being the new proxy with poise and class unlike Matthew. They began moving their bodies to the beat of the music, laughing when their hips bumped against each other and Emery threw her shyness out of the window. Just for one night, she could be a crazy chick instead of dork chick.

Recognizing Cheryl, he knew that hooker red lipstick anywhere and it worked for her. As far as he knew, she wasn't seeing anyone, though there had been some rumors about her flirting with Orton. Not that the closet dork had noticed anything. Mark bet she'd need to be topless with a controller tattooed on her tits before the idiot kid realized she wanted him to jump her bones. The other chick, he had no idea who the hell she was, but… he definitely wanted an introduction. Pushing himself up, he vacated the booth and began prowling the room, working his way towards the dancing women.

"Aqua! Be right back!" Cheryl called out over the music, heading off the dance floor and raised a slow brow at who she saw advancing on Emery.

Well this was VERY interesting. She smirked, ordering a water from the bar and leaned against it, watching the scene unfold. Queensryche, one of her favorite bands, was playing and Emery was lost in the music, sliding her fingers through her hair while continuing to move her body. Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Emery spun around and locked eyes with emeralds, a smile breaking out on her face. What was he doing here? Granted, he seemed to be the bar-hopping type, but this was a little…upbeat with dancing instead of simply playing pool and drinking oneself silly.

"Mark, hi!"

She kept moving to the beat, sky blues sparkling under the lights. Confusion clouded his eyes for a moment. She knew him? Then, Mark grabbed her by the arms, forcing the woman to hold still and held her out away from him, taking her in slowly. There was no way. Underneath those glasses and dorky exterior was… Growling, his arm snaked around her waist and he brought her against him until her body was right up against his.

"Emery?" He asked after a long moment, his voice dropping from its usual southern drawl to something deep and dark, eyes clearing and now emanating a predatory gleam.

Emery didn't mind being this close to him, her chest pressed against his bare one and grabbed his strong biceps, the smile never leaving her face. "I know, I look unrecognizable, huh?" She tried to inject some type of humor in her voice and failed, her voice softer than normal.

It wasn't a surprise he didn't recognize her. Hell, she didn't recognize herself after Cheryl's miraculous transformation. They began swaying together slowly, the music the furthest thing from their minds and Emery couldn't for the life of her pull her gaze away from him. She figured the reason he started swaying with her was due to the fact they were on the dance floor.

He wanted to feel her pressed against him. That outfit she wore did wonders for her breasts, delicious backside… her curves were proudly on display. When he looked down at her, Mark could see the way her breasts were pushed out, bending down on impulse to nip at her collarbone. The hand on her waist splayed and his fingers gripped her even tighter.

"Quiet, Emery." He ordered huskily, drawing her arm up so her hand was on his chest.

Her entire body flooded with heat, flushing and she had to do everything in her power not to moan at his small nip to her collarbone. Her hand on his chest did nothing to quell the fire raging in her body either. His muscles rippled beneath her touch and Emery could feel his own body heat radiating through her. Every time he spoke, it sounded like thunder rumbling from his chest and she shivered against him at his command. She nodded obediently, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth and continued moving with him. The world fell away and it was just the two of them in this moment in time. Emery thought back to that kiss in Sedona and, since he'd kissed her collarbone, the closer part of his body was his chest. Taking a chance, she brushed her lips against his bare chest and smiled up at him, sliding her hand up until it draped on his leather covered shoulder.

"I didn't tell you to stop, darlin'." He informed her darkly, watching as that luscious mouth of hers went back to his chest.

He practically purred, feeling her mouth caressing him. Slowly guiding her off the floor, Mark backtracked towards his corner booth. Once there, he lifted her up and over, tucking her back before joining her, one hand moving to push the table away to give them room. The other gripped her chin and forced her head up so he could plunder her lips with his.

This kiss was different than the first one. This wasn't Undertaker kissing her; it was Mark Calaway and he wasn't trying to scare another woman away. He had his complete focus on her and Emery could only kiss him back, cupping the side of his face with her soft hand. She immediately returned the kiss with equal fire and passion, opening her mouth for access the second his tongue snaked across her glossy lips. Emery's head whirled at the taste of him, the softest of moans flooding from the small opening between her lips.

The alarm bells ringing in her head were ignored because all she wanted was this man in every way possible. He'd pulled her to straddle his lap and felt just how much he desired her, the kiss not breaking while her hands went back to caressing his chest beneath the leather vest. Who would've thought her night on the prowl would wind up with the very man who wouldn't leave her thoughts and dreams? If this was another dream, Emery hoped she never woke up from it and pressed herself further against him, grinding her hips slowly, teasingly.

"Um, Mr. Calaway, could I have her back for a minute, please?" Cheryl asked timidly, though she would admit to being impressed with how hot that kiss and groping was. She had never considered herself someone who liked to watch, until now, and it was him she had eyes for. When Taker untangled himself from Emery, she avoided his eyes and met the other woman's hazy gaze. "Come on, Em."

He watched as Cheryl dragged Emery towards the bathroom, groaning and reached down to adjust himself though the jeans.

Given that Emery didn't get laid all that often… "Do you need condoms?" She had no idea if Taker was… clean.

"I – what?" Emery couldn't think clearly, blinking rapidly and touched her cheeks, which were flaming hot. Now that she was away from Mark, the passion haze in her brain cleared and… "Did I just…make out with Undertaker?"

Looking in the mirror beside them, Emery saw how swollen her no longer glossy lips were, touching them with trembling fingertips. What the hell was she doing? She couldn't sleep with Mark! God strike her down here and now she wanted him, but…weren't they supposed to be friends? He didn't show interest in her before seeing her all dolled up either.

"No. No I don't need them."

"What's wrong, sweetie? You guys clearly want each other, so…" Cheryl could see the hesitation in her friend's eyes, not blaming her. This was the Undertaker they were talking about. "Do you need help getting out of here?"

Nodding, Emery needed fresh air to breathe and followed Cheryl out of the bathroom, using the people in the bar to sneak out without Mark spotting them. By the time he realized it, she was on her way back to the hotel, staring out the window and had all the windows all rolled down to suck in the cool night air.

When Mark realized that neither Cheryl or Emery had come back, he gestured for one more drink. That was after he had drained his bottle. It took a hell of a lot to get him drunk, being his size as well as having developed a tolerance meant he had to drink quite a bit to get even remotely buzzed. By the time he had hit the state of buzz he had been seeking, he was ready to go find his geek and finish what they had started. Obviously, she wanted him and he wasn't about to let her deny either of them what they craved.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Thanking Cheryl for a great night out, Emery walked into her room and tossed the gold purse on the bed, so many different emotions flowing through her. She walked into the bathroom and stared in the mirror, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Why the hell was she so appealing now that she had makeup on her face and contacts? What was wrong with wearing glasses? Gritting her teeth, Emery felt irrationally angry and turned the water on, proceeding to wash all the crap off her face.

This wasn't her.

Makeup and sexy clothes...NO!

This wasn't her at all.

She loved who she was – the dork chick who loved video games and comic books. Once the makeup was completely gone, her skin was an angry red from scrubbing it all away and Emery removed the contacts next, tossing them in the trash. She had other pairs, but didn't plan on wearing them for a while. Once she finished, she brushed her hair out, wincing at the tangles and managed to pull it back in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Glasses on, she then stripped out of the sexy clothes and trashed them, tempted to light them on fire. Pulling on a pair of Mario Kart pajama pants she'd found on eBay and a black tank top, Emery emerged from the bathroom and felt marginally better, feeling more comfortable in her skin.

When he knocked and the door opened, Mark blinked once. Gone was the sexy siren he had seen an hour or so ago and been well on his way to bedding. Back was his geek Queen complete with Mario pajamas and her glasses. Mark nudged her inside, taking in the change and shut the door behind him.

"Why'd you disappear on me, darlin'?" He demanded, a tinge of annoyance darkening his tone.

"Because I was tired and wanted to come back to the hotel." That lie sounded lame even as it left her mouth, unable to meet his eyes and smacked his hand away when he gripped her chin like he had at the bar. "Don't." Dropping on the bed sitting Indian style, she stared straight ahead and clasped her hands in her lap, swallowing hard when he sat on the bed beside her. "You don't want me like this. You want who I was tonight and I'm not comfortable with that. So just leave, find someone else who dresses like that and get your rocks off."

When Emery first said that he didn't want her like this, his eyes had grown rather wide. Then she had followed it up with the rest of her spiel and they narrowed, now nothing more than acidic slits. "What the fuck are you babbling about?" He demanded, walking over and dropping to his knees on the bed. Mark reached out for her, dragging Emery up so she was on hers as well. "I was planning on bedding you, not some random woman, Emery."

"Only because of how I looked. If we didn't know each other and I walked in that damn bar looking like I do now or in jeans and a t-shirt, you wouldn't have looked twice at me."

Emery broke away from him, shaking her head sadly and got off the bed, needing to keep distance between them. It was the only way because his touch made her brain fuzzy and Emery didn't like that. She hated not being in control of herself whenever this man was around her.

"You like women who are dressed like I was tonight, Mark. It was an illusion. Cheryl dolled me up, it was her stipulation to go out with me tonight and I let her, like an idiot. What you see is what you get with me. You called me a dork chick and that's spot-on because that's exactly what I am. I'm not…who I was tonight in that bar. I'm not what you want."

"Jesus Christ, Emery, why do you have to overthink things?" He demanded harshly, moving off the bed as well and raked both hands through his hair. "I already told you once I'd fuck you and when I actually try, you…" Sure, the clothes, hair and makeup had knocked him for a loop, but he still wanted her, with or without glasses. "What the fuck were you doing in that bar, dressed like that, if not trying to get your rocks off, hmm? You're either not that kind of girl or you're a closet slut, which is it?"

"Excuse me?!" Emery could feel her temper rising, clenching her fists tightly at her sides and couldn't hold back when Mark stalked toward her, slapping the taste out of his mouth. It was the same slap she delivered to David when he did the cannonball with her in the pool. "Don't fucking touch me!" She hissed icily and could feel tears burning in her eyes. Is that how he saw her? A closet slut? "I was dressed like that because I let Cheryl pick my outfit and look out for the night, or didn't you hear me the first time, Neanderthal?" She was pissed and had every reason to be, not believing he just insulted her like this. "And if I'm a closet slut, what the hell does that make YOU? You're way worse than I am and probably have more notches on your bedpost than any man on planet earth! Your bedpost is probably withered down to nothing because of how much you sleep around! Well guess what, I'm not gonna be another notch!"

"I'm the biggest slut you'll ever find, darlin'." He agreed, tracing the raised red spot on his cheek with his fingertips, vicious amusement written all over his face. "Go on, DC, do it again." He hissed when she did and caught her hand, bringing it to his mouth.

Biting down on the inside of her palm, Mark slammed her back into the wall, capturing her protests with his lips, forcing her to swallow those shrieks. When she began melting against him, he broke the kiss, planting his knee firmly between her legs. Raising it, Emery felt her toes leave the carpeted floor courtesy of Mark's thigh.

"Let's be honest, darlin'," He drawled, pressing his forehead against hers, brushing his nose along hers. "We both know you're a slut, a discriminating one, but a slut nevertheless… and you've been panting after me for quite some time."

Not that he blamed her; he had been interested for a while as well. Tonight had only confirmed his sneaking suspicions that he was attracted to her on a physical level. When she protested, he shook his head.

"Emery… good girls go to Heaven, bad ones get me and you've been a very, very naughty girl." Naughty enough to have given him a potential case of blue balls.

Breathing heavily from his rough nearly bruising kiss, sky blues were nothing more than ice piercing him. Why was she fighting this? Emery wanted him as much as he did her, even with the harsh words spoken between them. He wanted her to slap him and found herself enjoying it, her eyes not leaving his. His words washed over her, calling her a slut and normally, any other woman would've nailed him in the junk. Her chest heaved up and down while being pinned to the wall, the rest of what he said making her brain do a jolt.

How had she been naughty?

"Then show me." Anger flashed through her icy eyes along with intense desire, pushing his leather vest off his shoulders down his arms to land on the floor. "Show this naughty girl just how big of a slut you really are, Deadman." Gripping the back of his neck, she slammed his mouth down on hers again and felt her tank top being ripped directly down the center.

He showed her all right. After that tank top was off, he scooped her up, tossing Emery over his shoulder and slapped her backside. Her breathy moan only confirmed what he knew. She enjoyed having her backside paddled and he'd do that tonight along with much more. His fingers found her hair tie and that was tossed aside, the heavy tresses coming undone. Without a word, he unceremoniously dropped Emery onto the bed and stood there at the foot of it, undoing the buttons of his jeans.

"On your knees, woman." He ordered darkly.

Her body listened to his command, even though the anger and resentment burned in her eyes. Why was she listening to him? Why didn't she kick him so hard in his nuts, they lodged in his throat? Along with ripping her tank top off, Mark got an eyeful of her breasts because she didn't have a bra on. The dark red top she'd worn at the bar didn't require one, so when she changed she figured there was no sense in putting one on. Positioning herself on her knees in front of him, Emery raked her nails down his chest and left gouges in his skin, not enough to break skin, but the red marks could clearly be seen on his pale complexion. The second he freed his painful erection, she took over and wrapped her hand around him to pull him closer to her, hearing a hiss sound out between his teeth.

"Tell me to suck you off." She ordered, feeling her mouth water and slid the pad of her thumb across the tip of his throbbing cock. "Order me."

Telling her to do something she had ordered him to do wasn't how this worked however. Mark's response wasn't anything verbal. He wrapped his fist in her hair and twisted until her mouth popped open from what looked to be a combination of pain and pleasure.

"You will suck my cock." He informed her, his tone biting as he entered her mouth. And if she used teeth, god save her cause he'd destroy her.

Moaning at the feeling of his roughness, Emery took his cock in her mouth and stretched her mouth slightly with every stroke in and out. It'd been a long time since she'd sucked a man off and felt her panties soak at the feeling of him throbbing in her mouth. Her hands managed to push his jeans down a little more until his bare ass could be squeezed while she drove him in and out of her willing hot mouth, digging her nails into his cheeks. His growl of approval told Emery all she needed to know and kept working her magic on his cock, her moans sending vibrations throughout his 6'10 frame. Pulling one of her hands from his ass, she found his balls and began fondling them, enjoying every second of being forced to suck him off as his fingers tightened in her hair further. As long as he didn't rip her hair out of her skull, Emery had no qualms about what was happening or else she would rip his dick off with her teeth. Before he reached the point of no return and drowned her in what would have been a waterfall of cum, Mark pulled away from her with a control very few men possessed.

"Face the headboard and get on your hands and knees, Emery." He ordered, voice low and harsh from lust. Watching her comply, Mark licked her lips with obvious relish. "What a perfect little cocksucker you are…" He whispered viciously, slapping her cheek with an open palm then gently caressed the red area before doing it again. "So obedient…" Lowering himself to his knees, Mark reached forward, grabbing her ankles and pulled her back towards him until her nether region was right in his face. He might've had a mouth on him, but wasn't stingy in the bedroom and firmly believed in reciprocating.

"Oh fuck!" Emery hissed out, not expecting Mark to pull back before he came in her mouth.

She was silently grateful for that because she would've ended up spitting it out or forced him to cum elsewhere. Being a cock sucker did not mean she swallowed. Emery had SOME standards after all, gripping the comforter below. Mark had divested her of her clothes before the dick sucking commenced, so she was completely naked while he remained in his jeans. His hot sinful mouth on her quivering pussy, his tongue flicking repeatedly against her bud, was almost her undoing. It'd been a long time for her since a man pleasured her this way.

"Mmm if I'm a cocksucker, then you're a perfect cunt licker…cunt." She cried out when his tongue thrust inside of her, digging her nails into the comforter and could feel the hot coil within her stomach starting to form. "That's it, drink me dry…"

Since he was also right at her backside, he gave her a warning slap. He could think of a few other things she might be calling him soon, smirking as he grabbed a handful and squeezed. When she started quivering and shaking uncontrollably, Mark pulled away, caressing her thighs and kissing her back, forcing her back away from the edge. They would both suffer together and it would be exquisite.

"You fucking tease!" Emery growled, not amused he hadn't allowed her to cum much like himself, wondering why he'd done that. Maybe he was a one-minute man and that thought made her smirk, blues nothing more than cerulean pools. "You were all talk, weren't you? I bet you can't even get it done in the bedroom anymore, old man." She gasped when he flipped her on her back, glaring up at him and moaned as his mouth devoured hers again, her erect nipples pressed against his muscular rock-hard chest. "Come on, Mark, show me why every woman on the planet throws themselves at your feet." Emery didn't know why she kept taunting him and laughed when he bit into the spot where her shoulder and neck met, purring in satisfaction and raked her nails down his back as hard as she could.

"Keep running your mouth, darlin'."

Mark smirked, pulling back to stare into her lusty blue orbs, seeing the mischief shining there as well as defiance. He kissed the tip of her nose, having plenty of experience in the bedroom and had no reason to prove himself, not to her, of all people. No… he'd take her to the very heights of heaven before dropping her to the darkest depths of hell, repeatedly, before the night was out.

This was hell, it had to be. "I will until you actually DO something!" Emery was going out of her mind with lust, the frustration clear as day on her face and glared up at the man responsible for igniting the fire inside of her. "Fine, get off me then and leave." She wasn't in the mood for games and if all he was going to do was eat her out, she could finish the job with her finger in the shower. "Get off me!" Hitting his chest with her tiny fists, Emery tried pulling herself from under him and growled when he put more body weight on her to where she couldn't move. "Why are you doing this to me?" She whimpered, her body cooling down from the foreplay and wiggled against him, trying to find some way to escape. "Do you do this with all of your other conquests or am I that fucking special? Just fuck me already!" The anger she felt towards him hadn't died or diminished; if anything, it had gotten worse because of his teasing and tormenting.

"You're special darlin', my little conquest, an extra special notch on my extra special belt…" He taunted, flattening her on the bed until she was done struggling.

Pushing himself up, Mark stared down into her crimson face and flicked his own damp hair back over his bare shoulders. He ran a hand down the center of her breasts, her taut stomach and dipped his fingers into her soaking wet sex, feeling her walls closing in on him instantly, her hips arching. She could fight him until she was blue in the face, it wouldn't change a thing. He was in charge and she would be a very frustrated soul until he said otherwise.

Darkened blues flashed angrily at him as Emery arched her body, feeling his fingers probe her sensitive sex, gritting her teeth. "Just remember, you're a notch on mine too, Deadman…" She breathed out, knowing she was at this man's complete mercy regardless of what he said and did to her.

His fingers felt wonderful, Emery couldn't deny it and it made her both hate and love him all at once. Reaching up to caress his face, her fingers buried in his hair and drove his head down to passionately kiss him, their tongues dueling together violently. His fingers didn't pick up the pace or slow down, keeping the methodic pace he started with. Control. That's all this amounted to was how much control he had over her. Mark had it and they both knew it as Emery currently drowned in sheer brutalizing ecstasy.

"That's all right by me, darlin', carve me a spot in your bedpost." He remarked, adding one more finger and smirked when she gasped.

Finally upping the pace, Mark used his thumb to stimulate her clit, watching as Emery began coming undone beneath him. Right at that exact moment before stars exploded before her eyes, he stopped and pulled away. She was close to crying from the looks of it and, before she could even think about opening that poisonous mouth of hers, he positioned himself and finally gave her what she had been begging for.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Oh CHRIST!"

Emery's eyes flew open, her breathing a lot harsher and ragged, thankful he'd stimulated her enough or else this would've hurt. He wasn't a small man by any stretch of the imagination. Skilled, nimble and damn near perfect besides his asshole ways. His mouth sealed to her neck as her legs lifted to drape on either side of him, gasping when he was fully sheathed inside of her in a sharp thrust. Trembling from head to toe, Emery tried in vain to get herself under control and blinked, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks. It'd been painful, but she also enjoyed it and felt him lick away her tears, finally capturing her mouth in another heated kiss while rocking in and out of her body. He tasted the salt from her tears on his tongue and buried her fingers in his hair again, meeting him for every thrust he produced inside her body. His fingers burrowed into her painfully as he set the pace, pulling away from her mouth.

She tasted delicious; every bit he had tasted tonight was delicious.

"Where's that runaway mouth of yours, Emery?" Mark demanded in a whispered growl, biting on her lower lip drawing it into his mouth. "Come on…" He rolled, catching her when she lost her balance and held her hips tightly, still refusing to let her alter the pace or take control. He had given the illusion of it, letting her ride him, but every time he felt her trying to move of her own volition, he stopped her. "Say. My. Name." Each word was punctuated with a sharp thrust up from his hips.

They were progressing to her screaming it. Shaking her head defiantly, a moan slid from her lips when his hand collided with the top of her backside. Once again, she was powerless against him and felt her resolve crumbling, glaring down at him heatedly.

"Fuck you, Mark…" Another sharp thrust inside of her sent her world spiraling, her nails digging into his chest, but he still wouldn't let her move. "Go to hell, Mark!" Another sharp thrust caused her body to burn for him, her nails leaving small crescents embedded in his skin. "Go fuck yourself, Mark!" He didn't say how she had to say his name and Emery still felt the defiance coursing through her veins, feeling SOME semblance of control she still possessed.

Mark, Calaway, Deadman, Undertaker, Phenom, Taker, he would answer to all of them and he bet he could probably get her to scream all of them. "That's right, my Queen, scream for me." He could feel her nails digging into him and arched up into it. "Go on, darlin', let it all out." This was him giving her permission to pretend she was in charge. When he felt blood, Mark let out a growl, sitting upright and drew her legs around his waist. "You'll beg me, curse my name, and call me god, all before the sun is up, Emery." That was a promise.

"You're not a god." Emery shot back, still breathless with him pulsating inside of her and moaned, feeling him thrust in and out of her once before sliding back in comfortably, not moving again. "You're driving me insane, Mark!" Resting her forehead against his, her hands caressed his broad shoulders and chest, sliding her tongue out to trace his lips teasingly. If he could tease her, she damn sure would reciprocate somehow. "You're just a man fucking a woman, nothing more, nothing less." When he didn't move and simply smirked at her, she gritted her teeth. "Mark." It was said through her teeth and she received a sharp thrust as a reward. "Mark." Another. "Mark…" Another. "I hate you, Mark Calaway." Then she plundered his mouth with hers, receiving a few more thrusts, but not nearly enough to drive them to that point of no return.

Putting her through multiple positions, Mark remained in control and allowed her to feel in control, when it was him pulling the strings the entire time. She cursed him out, told him how much she hated him and begged for mercy where there was none. He had already decided that they would not be stopping or climaxing, until she did call him god, because he was an arrogant son of a bitch like that. It meant his cock was in a constant state of bliss and agony, begging to release and then he'd deny himself repeatedly. Emery wouldn't be a notch, she was getting her own belt, the stubborn woman.

"OH GOD!" Emery shrieked out, not caring anymore and threw her pride out the window by hour 3 of blissful torture and couldn't take anymore, hoping Mark ended this game once and for all. "M-Mark, please…" Her voice quaked, stammering his name because of how much her body had been through in one night. She felt his tongue slide up the length of her spine until he bit into the same spot he marked her at hours ago. It would definitely be bruised for a couple weeks and Emery was shocked his teeth hadn't broken skin. "Please let me cum, Mark! Oh god!"

Emery would pass out, being reduced to begging like a bitch in heat. Tears burned her eyes as he began pounding relentlessly inside of her, doing her best to meet him for every thrust and finally sagged on the bed with her ass in the air, letting him have his way with her. Her strength was completely depleted. Mark had made it more than clear he was no one minute man. He wouldn't be rushed, taunted or goaded into giving Emery her way.

Her words amused more than hurt him as the scratches and bites she had given him… love marks as far as he was concerned. Their mutual climax had them both gasping for air, every inch of him tense as his heart sputtered, trying to regain the blood flow that his lowers had taken over. He dropped lazy kisses along her back, easing her heaving body down onto the bed. In a minute, he would check to make sure he still had a penis, pretty sure the intensity of her orgasm had removed it.

Countless bruises formed on her hips, thighs, upper arms, collarbone, breasts and the huge one he'd made worse every time his teeth sank into her skin. Luckily, all of it could be covered up and she didn't mind, for the most part. Mark had been extremely rough with her. Angry sex with this man was no joke. Emery just lay there for a while, not sure how much time passed while her heart rate and pulse slowed back to normal, her entire body aching. Her thighs trembled and she was pretty sure her pussy was numb. She hissed out, trying to sit up only for Mark's arm wrapped around her waist to bring her down again.

"The sun is rising." She pointed out in a soft murmur, knowing he'd kept his promise to her about everything that would happen before morning came.

Now what would happen between them?

"Yeah." Mark was already half-asleep, contentment coursing through him, relaxing him in ways he hadn't known he needed to relax. He rolled her away from him, drawing her back so they were spooning and buried his face in all that luxurious hair. "That's what you get, darlin," He yawned louder. "For calling me out…" One-minute man, his ass.

"I stand corrected. You're still an asshole." Hearing and feeling his soft growl against her neck, Emery snuggled back against him and placed her hand over his on her chest, falling asleep moments later.

8 hours later, Emery pried her eyes open and felt something heavy against her abdomen, looking down at the tattooed sleeved arm. The previous night/early morning events flowed through her mind, the mind-blowing angry sex they'd had and Emery bit back a groan, not believing she'd actually slept with Mark. After telling him she wouldn't be another notch on his belt and trying to send him away, he'd called her…Emery immediately stopped that thought process and managed to somehow extract herself from his arms, his snores filtering through the room. Grabbing her glasses, she winced with every step she took and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door partially and turned the light on. "Holy fuck." It looked like she'd gotten the hell beaten out of her, though Emery did bruise easily and their bout hadn't been gentle at all. She'd given as much as she'd received, hopefully.

"Shower…need a shower…" Her body was stiff.

"Great idea, darlin'."

When she had extricated herself from him, he had woken up and now here he was. Mark took her in, a half smirk curving his lips. She looked like someone had mugged her. Yawning, he looked down at his own chest, pleased with the still vivid scratches she had left on him, knowing later a few of them would sting like hell once he began sweating in the ring.

"Get the water going, best make it as hot as you can stand it."

It'd help with some of the aches he bet she currently felt, his eyes dropping down to her bruised backside. Mark also spotted a few bite marks and grinned. He was very glad she wore jeans all the time, it'd hide those. The last thing he needed was people thinking she was a battered woman.

Nodding, Emery turned the sprays on and ran her fingers through them until the water was as hot as she could stand it, feeling satisfied. Taking her glasses off and setting them on the sink, Emery stepped in and groaned at how wonderful the hot water felt against her sore body. Mark joined her moments later, both taking turns with the water since it was a standardized shower. The sprays hit both of them, so that was good, but Mark took the brunt of it. After washing her hair and body, Emery rinsed off and felt his fingers sift through her hair to help get the suds out. So many questions ran through her mind, but Emery would not voice them and chalked last night up to a one-time deal. When Mark left here, they would go back to being coworkers because sex didn't mean a relationship had to be established…even the kind they'd had together.

The sex was great, but he wasn't about to dive into anything except a sexual relationship. Even that was tentative just because she was part of the writing team. That was a potential problem he didn't need if things went belly-up. Not to mention, Emery hadn't seemed overly pleased with him last night; he had just forced her to forget why she was mad at him for a while. He kneeled down, getting the soap out of the ends of her hair for her before rising again, cracking his back and neck with a satisfying grunt.

"Still hate me, darlin'?"

"No…god did I really say that to you last night?" The anger had blinded her and her mouth had run away with her apparently. "I never hated you, Mark. I hated how much you teased and tormented me last night, but…never actual hate."

Even when he smashed her laptop by tossing it on the ground or destroying her favorite Kingdom Hearts t-shirt or writing in black ink on her forehead. Though she should do it herself and write 'Undertaker's slut' since that's all he thought of her. A closet slut. Maybe she was. The rage she felt last night was gone and Emery wasn't sure how she felt now. However, she would NOT apologize for the things she'd said because he'd also said terrible things to her as well.

"You said a lot last night, Queenie." He reminded her, now taking his turn at washing his hair, obviously not bothered in the least by whether or not she hated him.

Mark doubted it. He had just given her the best night of sex in her life; she probably loved him for it. Popping one eye open to stare down at her, Mark took in the way she stared at him and bent down to kiss the tip of her nose before resuming with his hair.

"So did you." She mumbled, clearly feeling bad about it and helped him with his hair since he'd done the same to her. "You also called me your Queen."

Emery cracked a small smile at that memory, assuming he said it in the heat of the moment. Her fingers ran through his hair, getting all of the soap out of it and noticed the scratch marks on his back. Some were deeper than others, eyes widening at the damage she'd inflicted on him. Emery moved to the front of him and slid her fingertips over the marks on his chest, being very gentle and kissed a few of them, not realizing his backside also had claw marks. Very aware of the fact that his backside bore battle wounds, when he had let that hot water hit his cheeks, it hadn't felt all that good. Totally worth it, however, and Mark smiled remembering just how he had gotten them.

"I did." Mark concurred, finishing up with his hair, with her assistance, before reaching for the body wash, eyeing her. "And you called me god." Just as he told her she would.

Only because he wouldn't let her climax until she did! Emery didn't say that aloud though, enjoying the peace between them for however long it lasted. While he finished washing his body, Emery stepped out of the shower to wrap a towel around her body, reaching up to touch the mark between her neck and shoulder blade. She'd already washed herself with her own body wash while he lathered up his hair.

"Oh wow."

The bruises were even darker against her skin now after the shower, but at least her body didn't feel stiff anymore. No doubt it would get worse as the day progressed. Smiling regardless, Emery brushed her teeth and began doing her hair when Mark finally stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Her glasses were back on so she could see clearly again.

Mark dried himself off, ignoring the minor aches that zipped through him and when he was finished, he hung the towel up to dry over the shower bar, finally looking down at her. Smiling, he pushed her glasses back up when they slid down, shaking his head. The bathroom was filled with steam, they were both still damp and they slid down again. He opened the door to air out the room, goosebumps appearing on his skin when cold air hit him. He stepped out into the main room, looking around for his jeans and vest.

"Lost cause, Queenie."

"I just have to tighten them."

Walking over to her bag, Emery sifted through it for a minute and pulled out a small black case, sitting on the bed still in her towel. She opened it and took her glasses, finding the very tiny screw on the side where the nose guards were located. Carefully, she took the small screwdriver and twisted the screw on both side, then did it on the arms of the glasses. While she did this, Mark had dressed back in his clothes and ordered them something to eat. She had no idea what time it was and didn't care, solely focused on fixing her glasses.

"There we go." Sliding them back on, she smiled when they no longer slid down her nose and put the kit away before grabbing clothes to change into. "What did you order us?"

"I ordered you whatever their ultimate breakfast is and myself a coffee to go." He answered, not missing the way her gaze lowered and shrugged on his vest, having already pulled on his jeans, socks and boots. "Darlin', I've got to get going. I've got my own stuff to grab and that promotional bullshit to do." Crouching down before her, Mark rested his hands on her knees. "The next time you decide to go out catting around a bar, let me know." He'd definitely be there to take her home.

She smacked him on the arm none too gently, sky blues narrowing. "Not funny. I wasn't 'catting' around a bar. I just went out with Cheryl and let her dress me up. I don't plan on doing it again." She softly kissed him, a lot gentler than the previous night and caressed his face, the side she'd slapped the hell out of twice, with the back of her hand. Once again, Emery became lost in his eyes and cleared her throat after a moment, pulling away from him to finish getting dressed. "I'll see you around." This would probably be the only time they slept together; Emery had come to terms with that fact.

"You were catting. A woman don't go out like that, not like you did." He argued, refusing to back down. "That's not your style. So tell you what, Emery, the next time you're feeling that itch, you come to me." It hadn't been him doing the scratching, his arms, chest and backside were proof of that, but he was speaking figuratively. "And I'll take care of you."

Mark was definitely up for another night with her; the woman was an enigma and he was enjoying seeing the pieces come together. One minute she was utterly predictable, then she just tossed out everything he knew about her and sent him spiraling. It was addicting.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Wait what? You want me to come to you when I'm feeling like that again?" She didn't know how to respond to that request, not sure if it was purposely insulting her. "Alright…" What the hell was she supposed to say to that? It wouldn't be for a while; she only felt restless and the need for sex every so often. "Only if you come to me." At his arched brow, she stood up from the bed and planted her hands on her hips. "I won't continuously fuck a guy who is with other women. If you want me to come strictly to you for sex, then you have to do the same thing with me. Otherwise, no, I won't come to you." Lord knew what kind of women he shacked up with before her and Emery wasn't about to get a case of STDs if she could help it.

"Yeah, I don't do relationships with writers, darlin'. Ain't happening." Mark declared, having taken a minute to realize what she was talking about.

She was talking about exclusive sex. With women, that always led down rocky roads, doubly so with someone who held the lead writer's ear. Yeah no, career suicide was not to be his if Mark decided to screw with her a bit too much or walk away.

"If it makes you feel any better though, I'm clean as a whistle." At her not impressed look, he shrugged. "Emery, I like you, but not enough to swear off other women. Mind you, I don't fuck around like I used to, massage therapist last week notwithstanding." Best to just remain friends without the benefits… then he imagined her shacking up with one of her geek friends and felt a twinge of something not pleasant, eyes narrowing.

"I hear you loud and clear. Well then, I guess we go back to being…whatever it was we were before last night happened. And I wasn't looking for a relationship either. I'm not that stupid to actually date someone I work with. Sex is just sex, but…"

Emery shrugged, pulling her t-shirt on and began braiding her hair, ignoring her jeans for the moment while she walked over to look out the window. If she needed a release, one-night stands are what would happen because she wouldn't screw Mark again. He wanted other women and she expected that, feeling him walk up to stand behind her. Emery had lost a lot of self-respect last night with this man and she refused to give him everything while she got nothing in return. If he had known what she was thinking, Mark would have been offended and informed her that she had received mind-blowing sex for hours. Every woman he took to bed claimed great sex at the end of it, but he tried to avoid long romps with women he had no intention of seeing past 3AM. Most of them were looking for more than he would give.

"Don't overthink it, Queenie." He moved up to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her in a quick hug. "Not everything has to be complicated." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"You're right, it doesn't. That's why we're not doing this again."

Extracting herself from his arms, Emery walked over to pull her jeans on and buttoned them, having a carefree look on her face. She would not budge on the stipulation. They could either be fuck buddies exclusively to each other with no strings attached, or…he could go out and find other women to have sex with. The knock on the door saved her because Mark had been on the verge of stalking toward her, no doubt trying to change her mind. She would not go to him, not if he didn't give her the same courtesy.

"Thanks." She tipped the waiter and shut the door, rolling the tray in that had Mark's coffee and her breakfast with a side of coffee. "Better get going, Deadman. Promotional bullshit and all."

Taking his coffee, Mark sipped it with amusement sparkling in his green eyes as he regarded the way she carried herself. "I'll be seeing you, my Queen." He bowed at her playfully before walking out, whistling. His dork chick was something else.

Matthew shut his own door, having opened it to get his own breakfast, considering what he was pretty sure he had seen.

The Undertaker… coming out of Emery's room.

"See you around, Deadman." She called back just as the door closed, eating her pancakes and relished in the taste of them, groaning.

She was famished, starved, after the bout they'd had the previous night. While she ate, she pulled her Alienware out and started going over the notes she'd made for the upcoming scripts, tilting her head thoughtfully. There had to be a way to get Mark out of this WrestleMania predicament, right? No, Vince was dead set on handing Mark's legacy over to David and that did not set well with Emery. Her idea was ridiculous and stupid; now that she'd crossed the line with Mark, there was no coming back from it. Sighing, she shut her laptop and finished eating before getting a quick nap in. She didn't have to be at the arena until 4 PM.

* * *

With Mark and David's feud officially underway, everything became incredibly hectic backstage with Vince making last minute chances to the scripts. It annoyed Emery, to say the least, but she did what the boss wanted, even though some of his ideas were asinine. After the show was over with, Emery planned on driving to the next location since it wasn't that far away. House shows usually weren't. She gasped when she was yanked into a dark dressing room from the hallway, the scream lodged in her throat.

Now, he could feel that scream building, that lump in her throat, because his hand was wrapped around her slender neck. Not harshly, but enough to let her know she was being… assaulted. When he flipped on the light and seen the look on Emery's face, Mark began laughing and apologizing at the same time.

"Darlin', I'm sorry! Couldn't resist!"

"You. Stupid. Arrogant. SON OF A BITCH!" Emery screamed those last words, hitting him with every word that came out of her mouth and clutched her chest through the t-shirt, shaking her head. "Goddamn you, Mark! Jesus Christ!"

Why did he insist on scaring her? One of these days, he would cause her to have a heart attack at this rate! Or a stroke! Luckily, the bag was strapped over her chest on her shoulder, so she hadn't dropped it or else that would've been another $3,000 she'd have to fork over.

"Not funny at all, Calaway. What the hell do you want?"

"Do it again, my Queen." Mark teasingly taunted, which got him a smack across the face, his eyes lighting with emerald fire. He was tempted to snatch her up and kiss the anger away, or ignite it, but had a purpose for seeing her tonight. "Well, besides making your pert ass jump, I have a present for you."

The look of shock on her flushed face was both amusing and offensive, as if he couldn't be thoughtful or something. He reached into the bag he was carrying after setting it down on a nearby chair, rifling until he found it. It was a comic book, in a brand-new casing and, when he held it out, the cover art was her and him, glaring at each other.

"Volume One." He informed her with a grin, pretty amused with himself. It was filled with their first meeting and the artist he had on the job would continue with everything else that happened. "Go on, it's for you." He had even signed it.

Hesitantly, she reached out to take it and looked at the gift, running her fingertips over it. The artwork was masterful, the colors vibrant yet dark at the same time. It was the perfect mixture of them, her character with the black hair and glasses, even wearing a t-shirt and jeans. And him in all black, his hair down and his eyes were emerald green.

"Volume One…" She reiterated in a soft murmur, flipping the page and narrowed her eyes at their first encounter. The second page was him chasing her down the hallway out of the cafeteria. Then it went to her makeshift office…his bullying ways…everything was in here…including… "Oh wow…" She immediately shut the comic book and felt her cheeks flame up, not believing he added their angry sex to it. "When did you have time to do this?" Emery finally asked, looking up at him and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Some promotional bullshit, huh? You are such a liar." There was no malice in her tone as she looked back down at it, feeling her heart soaring to the heavens. "Thank you. I love it. It's even better than the Green Arrow comic Frankie gave me…" That said A LOT coming from her.

"You're welcome, and as for when I had the time, darlin'… you of all people should know, I have no problem with multitasking."

It had been a lot of phone calls, e-mail and Skype… he hadn't liked that, but it had been worth it. Mark had gotten the finished product overnighted and picked it up this morning. She had only skimmed through it; he imagined when she had time to get to reading it, she might not be as amused at that graphic sex stuff… he had also made sure their dialogue was included.

"Not mad at me anymore, are you, Queenie?"

"No."

She slid the comic book in one of the pockets in the front of her bag before reaching up to bring his mouth down on hers, passionately kissing him. Emery felt his arms wrap around her, lifting her up to where her legs wrapped around his waist and massaged the back of his neck with her fingers and nails. Her body was still incredibly sore from last night, but after the thoughtful gift, Emery had to give him something and slowly pulled back while he still had her in his arms.

"I don't know why you did it, but thank you." Who was she kidding? He could fuck every other woman on the planet and she would still let him take her to heights only they could reach together. "I'm driving to the next location, wanna keep me company and make more memories for the other volumes?" Now she was grinning.

Mockingly, his eyes widened and he tried to arrange his face in what was meant to be a self-righteous offended look. He couldn't pull it off, the deviousness was showing in his eyes. "Are you propositioning me, Emery?" Mark growled, squeezing her backside before kissing her again. He checked that bite mark he had left on her, nodding. "You need a touchup, darlin'."

"So do it." She challenged, hissing when his teeth sank into her skin, his mouth sucking to brighten the spot between her neck and shoulder. "Mmm yeah…" Her entire body tingled from head to toe, feeling his mouth release her reluctantly and rubbed her nose against his in a loving way. "Are you propositional?" Emery laughed softly at his growl and felt her feet touch the concrete flooring of the dressing room moments later. "Unless you don't want to ride with me…"

Smirking, she headed toward the door and didn't get her hand on the handle when he snatched her up again. Spinning her around, Mark slammed her back against the door, his mouth crashing on hers. His hand twisted around her braided hair, pulling and Emery increased the intensity of the kiss, raking her nails down his shirt covered chest.

"I take that is a yes?"

"It's a maybe." Mark growled, nuzzling her jaw, kissing and nipping the column of her neck. "I'll let you know this right now, Emery, you'll never be allowed the last word with me. I won't have it." What had it gotten her the last time? Three hours plus of intense sex that had her begging him for release. He had his… ways of punishing a mouthy woman, as she was well aware. "And if you try walking away from me again…" He'd spank her; that wasn't a bad idea actually. His hand dropped down to caress said backside, followed up by a smack. She purred and he smiled. "Let's ride, Queenie."

"But it looks like I just did."

Emery stuck her tongue out at him, laughing when he smacked her backside a second time and felt his arm drape around her shoulders, walking out of the arena with him. Randy and Paul couldn't leave due to media stuff going on, so she'd been planning on traveling to the next location alone. It was amazing how things worked out and, currently, they were in her favor. Emery handed over the keys since Mark wanted to drive and slid in the passenger seat, buckling up before pulling out the special comic book of them. Now she'd be able to look at it better and pay attention to the detail. "You even had them use bubbles for the dialogue. You put a lot of thought into this." She said an hour later, glancing over at him with sparkling sky blues.

"That's me, a real thoughtful guy, darlin'." He drawled, glancing at her briefly and was rewarded with a large smile, a twinkle in those delicious blue eyes. He felt something very pleasant course through him and had to remind himself that they weren't doing the relationship thing. "I can do… friends with benefits." That was about all he could manage. "Exclusively." No relationship, just friends who screwed, in case things went bad. "But the minute one of us decides to call it quits, that's it, no hard feelings."

Did he really just say exclusively? Emery was quiet for a little while, mulling over his words and wondered if this was a good idea. She was the lead script writer, and he didn't know it. He still thought she was just part of the writing team – a nobody writer, as he so eloquently put it. Did Emery want to go down this road with him and risk jeopardizing her career?

"Okay, understood. I don't want a relationship and I'm not expecting anything either, Mark. I like hanging out with you. It doesn't matter what we're doing. And when you say it's over, I promise not to become a psycho bitch. But if I decide to call it quits with you, don't be losing that temper." She didn't see herself being the one to call it quits with him, but Emery also couldn't predict the future.

"I can't promise I won't put whoever you decide to leave me for in a coma…" He teased, though he also meant every word he just said.

Mark didn't care for being dropped, it was usually the other way around and he was arrogant enough to admit it. That could also be why his marriages tended to fail, his arrogance. Not the time to think about that one.

"You worried about my temper, Queenie?" He'd seen hers in action, so she had little room to talk.

Emery had seen firsthand what his temper was like and shivered, knowing he'd caught it. "A little, yes." She admitted, reaching across the seat to slid her hand on his jean covered thigh, squeezing it gently. "I know you'd never hurt me…like really hurt me."

Smacking her backside and biting her in various places on her body didn't count as being harmed. She enjoyed everything Mark did to her. However, she also knew he had a volatile temper and hoped to never provoke it.

"I'm not afraid of you though. And if I find out who you drop me for, I'll have to send the bitch to the hospital." Smiling sweetly, her eyes turned back to look at the comic, removing her hand from his thigh.

"Yeah, I can already tell you this, darlin'." Mark was completely grave for once and shot her another look. She appeared to be engrossed in the comic, but her hand wasn't moving to turn the page anymore. "This isn't going to end well, for either of us." He could already see it, knew it was coming, pain and pleasure all wrapped up in their delicious package, but he was willing to take this ride with her.

"I know." She looked up at him, furrowing her brows together and knew his words rang true. "It's worth the risk though."

Emery could already feel her heart being placed in Mark's hands, but would never admit it. He was the only man she had spent this extensive amount of time with and looked out the window up at the stars, hoping she made it out of this alive. Suddenly feeling heated, Emery rolled the window down and closed her eyes, the cool breeze flowing through her braided hair, tilting her head enough to be able to look directly up at the night sky.

Silence reigned as he drove and that was fine. She hadn't even bothered turning on the music and, truth be told, the sound of the road beneath the tires with the wind blowing through the windows was enough for him. His thoughts were occupied with the woman sitting beside him and everything that could, probably would go wrong. It was just how life worked and Mark knew they were breaking the cardinal rule of mixing business with pleasure, but it was just sex.

Right?


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

WrestleMania arrived in what felt like the blink of an eye. Over the past 3 weeks, Emery had given herself to Mark in every way possible. Some nights were full of wild, crazy sex and others he actually slowed things down. Regardless, she was either in his room or him in hers. Randy and Paul stayed with her whenever he couldn't stay with her, though Mark had come back to Sedona with her on their days off. She had asked him if he wanted to go to Texas and give them some space, but all he told her was he didn't need it. Truth be told, she didn't either. Emery could feel herself starting to fall for Mark, hard. She knew he didn't feel the same way about her and never would – it was just sex between them along with friendship. He'd gotten a couple of other comic books made, entitled Volumes 2 & 3 and they were currently in safekeeping at her home along with her other comics.

The matches were all lit, but when Emery discovered what number Mark and Batista were on the card, she knew it wouldn't set well with the Deadman. Considering it was for the world championship, Vince should've put it as one of the final matches on the card that night. She sat in front of the monitor with Cheryl, Randy and Paul, all of them chewing their thumbnails as the Deadman made his entrance on the grandest stage of them all. Both decided it would be best not to say anything about their friends with benefits clause, so nobody knew Emery was currently sleeping with Mark.

Not even her boys or Cheryl.

Watching him wrestle and the way he moved sent her heart racing, sky blues not leaving the monitor for a second. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when Mark suddenly jumped script, tombstoning David in the center of the ring instead of doing a reversal like she'd written. When he pinned Batista and won the title, Emery felt Cheryl's eyes boring into her and she returned the intense stare, both of them not believing what just happened.

Emery was angry…irrationally angry. How could he do that?! She understood why he didn't want to hand his legacy over to David, but to jump script the way he had was uncalled for! Did WrestleMania really mean that much to him? He just spat in her face and didn't even realize it because he didn't know the truth! Groaning, Emery put her head in her hands, leaving her hair down for the evening and had dressed up because it was required dress for the show. So, she had on a black leather skirt and a pale blue halter top, both materials clinging to her curves and she had two-inch knee-high boots to go with it. People had given her compliments all evening about how she looked, but Emery didn't care. All she could do was replay what happened in her head during the title match and knew she couldn't blow up at Mark without revealing her secret.

Mark strolled into the ballroom for the WrestleMania afterparty a little late, but… he had to ice down. He and David hadn't taken it easy on each other, which was the way he usually preferred it, but it had been… fueled on hatred from both men. Wearing black slacks and a button-up shirt, his hair was pulled back and had on some shiny shoes he was pretty sure an assistant had bought for him. He ignored the looks he got, exchanged fist bumps with those who hadn't been onboard with the line the lead writer had tried to pass off as a good deal and headed for the drinks. Needing one, Mark knew Vince would try tearing him a new one.

After getting over the initial shock of Mark jumping script, it was time to party and Cheryl informed Emery she was under dressed for the after party. All the employees were required to attend it. Against her better judgment, she allowed Cheryl to find her something in wardrobe since Emery didn't travel with an evening gown. She hadn't attended the Hall of Fame ceremony the previous night, instead staying in her hotel room vegging with Mark and having mind-blowing sex. Currently, she stood off to the side talking to someone, wearing a simple light blue chiffon gown. It was strapless and had a sweetheart necklace with silver flowered accents on the top and waist, lacing up the back. Her long black hair was pinned to the side, thanks to the hair stylist at the arena, and tons of spiral curls bunched up on her shoulder.

Luckily, it was the shoulder with the love bite mark that Mark had frequently attacked. He was determined to leave his mark on her. Her contacts were in, clear gloss, black liner and light blue shadow along with foundation completed her makeup. No jewelry because the dress had enough on it. She nodded at something Vince whispered in her ear and nodded to him, assuring him quietly that the scripts would be changed immediately for Raw and Smackdown! since Mark was the champion now. Cheryl was right beside her for moral support and had to be since she was the proxy. Cheryl spotted Taker first and nudged Emery, which in turn got Vince's attention. She whistled softly when Vince immediately headed to 'politely greet' his new, impromptu champion.

"I honestly don't know why Vince was so surprised, everyone knew Taker was going to do it." She mused, popping her cocktail shrimp in her mouth. "The man wasn't wrong either, and here comes cock bite now." Cock bite being David. He looked like he had seen better days, though he had put forth some effort to dress up and pretend he hadn't just been humiliated.

A lot of people congratulated Mark on a job well done with the match while David sulked in the corner. Emery allowed Mark to soak up his victory while she ate some shrimp with Cheryl, both making snide remarks about how David looked. Why did he even show up if he was trying to bring the mood down?

"Good match tonight, David." Cheryl couldn't resist, hiding her smile by eating some more shrimp and felt her eyes light up at the sight of Randy walking in. "Excuse me." She walked over to him, leaving Emery to fend for herself against the animal.

Emery could've killed her.

David had to do a doubletake, blinking and felt his brown eyes widen at the sight of the beauty in front of him, "Emery?" He whistled slowly, giving her a thorough onceover. "Damn, you clean up nice, woman!"

"Thanks." Emery felt disgusted with his eyes devouring her and excused herself to walk across the room, not wanting to be near him right now.

David had already lost quite a bit tonight. He had lost his title. He had lost his career vaulting moment. His pride. And now… now she was pricking it by walking away from him without even bothering to wait until she was completely out of sight before rolling her eyes. Hiding a snarl, he reached out and pulled her back, instantly guiding Emery back onto the dance floor, where she wasn't likely to make a scene.

"You can spend a minute or two with me, can't you?" He smiled down at her.

Well, that was interesting.

Mark took a slow sip from his glass, the whiskey a welcome burn running down his throat. As if he wouldn't have noticed her the minute he had walked in. Emery was gorgeous in that gown, he knew it would only enhance her gorgeous blue eyes. She also looked uncomfortable and pissed, so he should rescue her.

"I don't want to dance with you, David." Emery didn't have a problem making a scene, pulling away from him, or trying to. His arm was tight around her waist, preventing her from moving away and she began struggling against him. "David, I'm serious, let go of me right now…"

"Or what?" He rumbled in her ear, digging his fingers in her side.

Emery winced, sore from a bout she'd had with Mark the previous night and shoved away from him. "Don't you dare try to grab my ass again!"

"There a problem here?" Randy demanded, leaving Cheryl to go to Emery's rescue and sized David up, his own blues iced over. "I believe the lady told you to let her go, Batista. Take a walk. NOW."

Snarling, David stalked off the dance floor and right out of the ballroom, pissed beyond belief.

"Randy, thank you so much!" Emery tossed her arms around him and kissed his cheek, trembling a little from that altercation. "Go be with Cheri, I'll talk to you later."

Nodding, Randy swept Cheryl back on the dance floor and watched Emery made a beeline for the bathroom, hoping his friend would be alright.

Mark had watched everything go down from his place at the table with Vince right by his side. He would admit, he had been very tempted to go rescue Emery, but he hadn't. Instead, he had watched her humiliate David even further, followed by Randy coming in to play knight in shining armor. Vince had read him the riot act before finally conceding that he shouldn't have even agreed to the line.

"No shit?" He muttered, green eyes following Emery's dash to the bathroom.

After taking a couple minutes to calm down, Emery finally stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed some more shrimp with cocktail sauce, not seeing David anywhere in sight. Good. She looked up at another man approaching her from her right and beamed brightly, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. They had been good friends up until he'd been drafted to Raw and hardly spoke afterwards. He was Randy's best friend and had been introduced through him to her.

"If it isn't the infamous John Cena."

He grinned, blue eyes glittering and wore a crisp blue pinstriped suit with a dress shirt beneath, accepting the friendly hug from Emery. "Wow, you look…stunning." He complimented, kissing her cheek and held her at arm's length, nodding his approval. "Randy and I told you you're smoking hot. Glad you finally took our advice to show the goods, girl."

"Cheryl's doing, trust me. I'm still into the t-shirts and jeans." Emery had missed him and her heart had broken when he was drafted to Raw. "I saw your match tonight. It was good."

"Hell, nothing compared to the Deadman and Batista. Speaking of, I saw what happened and if Randy didn't step in, I was on my way. Are you okay?"

Emery nodded, placing a hand on his arm. "Thank you."

"If not, she will be." Mark cut in, stepping up to join their little… cluster. She knew more men than she did women, what the hell was up with that? From what he had seen, she only seemed to spend time with Cheryl and that was only because she now worked with the woman. "Why was David manhandling you?"

That was what he was curious about.

What'd she done to piss that bitch off?

"He tried to force me to dance with him. Apparently, his ego is a little wrecked after what you did tonight." Emery smiled sweetly, looking up at Mark briefly before turning her attention back to John. "Luckily Randy was there to save me. My brother in arms and all." She put up the fist and laughed when John bumped it, hugging him again. "Go on, I've taken up enough of your time, champ." She watched John walk off, sighing wistfully and turned her attention fully on Mark, still somewhat upset with him for jumping script…HER script. "So, how are YOU tonight, Deadman? How does it feel being champion again?"

There was a hint of something in her tone, something that just wasn't quite right. Since Mark couldn't peg it for what it was, he didn't say anything on it. Instead, he shrugged, staring down at her intently.

"Fine, I guess. It's just a bonus." He loved holding gold, there was no doubt about it, but he had sidestepped it many times in order to put over someone else or for the sake of company and storylines. His legacy, his streak; that was what he had been determined to protect and mission accomplished. "I am pretty sure Vince and those boneheaded writers will think twice when it comes WrestleMania time next year about what they're going to have me do."

Boneheaded writers? That had been HER idea, even if it wasn't a good one, it was still hers and he'd completely destroyed it! The irrational anger was back as Emery grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter walking past them, downing it in one long swallow. Her blood was boiling, this was a huge blow to her pride and Vince probably wouldn't take her word as gospel anymore because of him.

"Right." She set the flute down on the table and cleared her throat, needing to back on track. "Well what's done is done, I suppose. Oh, I won't be staying with you tonight as planned. Because of your…impromptu script change, I have to pull an all-nighter with Cheri and change the script for Smackdown! and every other one leading up to Backlash." That was their next pay-per-view event, where Mark would go up against Batista in a rematch for the world title, but he didn't know that yet. "Sorry champ, duty calls."

Smacking his chest none too gently, she stormed away from him and grabbed another flute of champagne to down it, needing to take the edge off somehow. Cheryl was having the time of her life on the dance floor with Randy, so Emery didn't bother pulling her away from that. Deciding to just send her a quick text to pretend to come up to her room whenever she left the afterparty.

All he could do was watch as she stormed out of there like someone had lit a fire under her backside, wondering what the hell he had done to piss her off. Yeah, she was an assistant, or writer, or whatever it was she did, but Cheryl didn't look like she would have an early night, not if the way she was smiling as Randy whispered sweet nothings in her ear on the dance floor. So she would have a bit of a heavy workload for a day or two, that wasn't on him. Mark had told everyone exactly what he would do. He would set that asinine script on fire and do what he had threatened to do. Break it and Batista. Given his history of being fairly true to his word, he would have figured they would've made some backup lines or something for this outcome. Apparently not.

"Whatever." He muttered, rolling his eyes and went back for another drink.

"Randy…" Cheryl warned in a purr, enjoying being in his arms and became lost in his gorgeous ocean blues. "I-I really need to go to Em's room and…oh god…" Any thought of trying to leave him flew out the window the moment his mouth sealed to her neck. "Your room or mine?"

"Whichever is closer so I can get you out of that dress and in my bed." Randy growled in her ear, not believing he hadn't noticed how beautiful Cheryl was until tonight. They had gone out together with friends, as friends, but tonight he wanted more. He wanted to go to the next level, hoping Emery didn't mind her proxy being kidnapped for the evening.

"Let's find out." Taking his hand, they walked out of the ballroom together with her tucked against his side. Being Emery's proxy…had its perks because she didn't have to go to the woman's room, only say she had if someone inquired.

Watching Cheryl leave with Orton was enough for him to determine Emery had probably just used her boss as an excuse to vacate. That or Cheryl was an asshole who had heaped a giant workload on his poor Queen. After making his excuses to his friends, who had swamped him to congratulate him on his win, Mark vacated. He made his way to the hotel, more to the point, the room Emery was in and hesitated at the door. What was her deal? Batista coming onto her the way he had, manhandling her… that'd do it. Mark made a mental note to break Batista's fingers the next time they ran into each other.

Only HE got to manhandle Emery.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Okay, I can change this and make this happen…" Emery muttered to herself, chewing on the end cap of her pen while making notes and crossing stuff out on the printed scripts.

She was out of her gown, back in glasses and a t-shirt, no bra, and panties, sitting Indian style on the bed. Her hair was still in the curls framing her face haphazard, but all the bobby pins had come out. There was no time for a shower right now, not when she had to completely change the script for Smackdown!. Groaning when a knock sounded at her door, Emery hoped that was Cheryl and swallowed hard at the sight of Mark staring back at her.

Didn't she tell him she was busy tonight?

"So… unless Cheryl has you doing all the work for her, I don't think you two will be working together tonight."

Mark pushed past her and stepped into the room, taking in everything sprawled on the bed. She really was working. He headed for the scripts, somewhat amused when Emery darted around him and began gathering it all up before he could see.

"Isn't that your boss's job? Or is she having you cover her ass while Orton taps it?"

"I-I don't know. She's with Randy? I thought it was her at the door, not you." Another lie.

Quickly, she gathered all the paperwork and shut the laptop, not wanting him to see anything. If he saw her handwriting, her cover would be blown since she wasn't supposed to make changes without Cheryl's permission. Cursing when a page fluttered to the floor, Emery felt her heart leap in her throat as Mark looked at it and then handed it over, taking it from him to add to the pile of paperwork.

"I guess we're not working tonight then…" Emery muttered, hating how much harder it was getting to keep her secret from Mark now that they were sleeping together.

"Good." He informed her, taking the pile of papers and carrying them away from her. Ignoring the fact that she was practically dancing after him, Mark smirked, raising them up high above his head. "Should I take a peek, darlin'?" Mark teased, figuring not much would pertain to him since the roster was huge and Cheryl sticking this workload on Emery was ridiculous. "Come on, Emery, you've been… different tonight. What's your damage?" He carelessly dropped the papers on the dresser top and turned to face her, reaching out to finger a curl.

Her damage was the prick standing in front of her, who thought jumping script and ruining her idea was the smart thing to do. Saying that aloud would've gotten her head removed from her shoulders, however. Another lie had to be told to cover this one up and it grated on her nerves with how much lying she had to do lately. Ever since getting involved with Mark, it was lie after lie coming out of her mouth whenever work came up.

"I'm sorry, Mark. I just…David scared me tonight," That was partially true. "And I just wanted to get out of there. Cheryl was supposed to come do the scripts with me, but apparently that's not happening since she's with Randy. It's fine. I'll just do them tomorrow." The smile was back on her face as she stepped up to him, shaking her hair a little as the curls bounced. "I guess I can spend the night with you…if you still want to."

"You guess?" His long, nimble fingers unfastened the buttons of his shirt, making short work of it though he didn't bother removing it. "Thanks, Emery, for making time for me." Apparently she needed to remember who he was and took a step forward, reaching out to cup her by the back of her neck, pulling her into him. "He'll regret touching you." He promised darkly, referencing her comment about Batista. "I'll see to that." Nobody laid a hand on what was his and his face darkened at the thought of that idiot laying hands on his woman.

"Okay."

The intensity in his eyes made her breathless while he held her against him, their noses touching, one leg propped up while she steadied herself on the other, her hands gripping his biceps. She loved his possessiveness over her and moaned as soon as his mouth captured hers, his hand instantly burying in her ebony curls.

"I'll always make time for you, Mark." She mumbled against his lips, curling her arms around his neck and felt him lift her up from the carpeted floor, her legs wrapping around his waist.

He sat down on the bed with her straddling his lap as they continued kissing, touching, feeling, but it wasn't rough like normal. There was a sensual quality to the way Mark kissed her and it made her heart do flip-flops in her chest. If Mark would've known what would be coming in the day ahead, he would have either made love properly to her…. or skull fucked her corpse.

"You'd better." He rumbled against her lips, one hand burying itself gently in her hair, the other holding her steady about her waist. "Was that all tonight, just Batista setting you off?" Mark asked softly, nuzzling her throat, not about to add to her bruises, not tonight.

She probably needed a break from him leaving violent love marks on her.

No it wasn't, but Emery wasn't about to tell him that and gazed deeply into his eyes, caressing his face tenderly with her fingers. "Yeah, I didn't expect him to do that. I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with him, but you must've really butchered his pride jumping script and he figured taking it out on the first person he saw was the way to go." She snorted softly, watching the rage build in his eyes again and rained soft kisses all over his face to calm him down. "Mark, I know you…like the rough stuff and I do too, but…can you be a little gentler with me tonight?" Her eyes lowered from his, caressing his exposed shoulders and chest. "Please?"

He had planned on it, but her specifically requesting it made his head cock to the side, studying her thoughtfully. She didn't look too battered and bruised, Mark knew his love making was of the rough kind and most women didn't take it too kindly, or well. Emery had held up, dishing it right back out half the time, but… she looked tired, weary, not physically but mentally.

"Yeah." He said softly, surprising both of them, guiding her gently down onto the mattress. "I can do that, darlin'."

There was a storm on the horizon. Emery could feel it and knew it had to do with David Batista, not sure what would happen after she'd made a fool of him at the after party. That possibility hadn't left her mind, up until Mark began making love to her. Then every other thought flew out the window as she completely focused on him, enjoying this gentler loving side of him. He could be both and still make her feel more ecstasy than anyone else ever had.

"Congratulations." She whispered hours later, yawning loudly and spooned up against him, once again content with sleeping in his arms.

* * *

Mark had left Emery in that bed alone, dropping a kiss on her brow before walking out the door. He figured she'd be tired as hell from her lack of sleep and knew she had busy times up ahead. Frowning once outside, Mark looked up at the overcast sky and he felt something almost like a shiver creep down his spine.

Change was in the air.

David was ready for whatever was coming. He owed payback to a son of a bitch who had thought his pride was more important than doing the right thing. Pride and the piece of ass he had been getting on the side from the lead writer's assistant. Contemplating just how the Smackdown! taping would go, David could jump script too.

After staying up all day and night fixing the scripts for Smackdown!, Emery had spent what energy she had left with Mark. Smackdown! was in the same arena as Raw, so there was no travel required over the next day. She slowly opened her eyes and pulled herself out of the bed, smiling at the delicious ache between her thighs. Glancing at the clock, Emery sighed and slid out of bed, needing some coffee before she even thought about showering to get ready for the night.

After inhaling 3 cups, she felt more alive and dressed in another Kingdom Hearts t-shirt and jeans, deciding to leave her hair down. She didn't feel up to doing anything with it besides brushing it out after the shower. After tonight, she had 5 days off and Emery planned on spending them in Sedona, possibly going to visit her parents and wondered if Mark would come with her. They weren't in a relationship, but that didn't mean she couldn't introduce him, right?

It'd be tonight. Matthew had decided. It was perfect. David was pissed at everyone that dared look at him wrong; Taker was walking around with a smirk and world title belt over his shoulder. He knew what had put in a spring in the Deadman's step. He was banging the lead writer… did he know that? It would explain why Emery wasn't losing her mind over her precious script being discarded the way it had. Emery… it would explain everything, including how she had gotten her job back. Matthew knew he wasn't as good at her, but he wasn't bad enough to have warranted that promotion. Her screwing the Undertaker, however, Taker did have some sway and could have easily gotten her job back.

Feeling more confident in herself, Emery wore thin black liner tonight and some gloss, not sure why she did it other than she wanted to look…different. Finding an empty room, she set up shop and got to work, receiving a text from Mark asking if she made it to the arena. He had countless meetings and appearances that morning due to being the world champion. She texted him back, letting him know she was at the arena and promised to see him later that night, adding not to hurt Batista too badly. His response of 'no promises Queenie' made her giggle as she set her phone aside and began her work.

* * *

When David arrived at the arena a short while later, he found a video with a big red bow tied to it and a note that said **WATCH ME** in bold black lettering.

David fingered the video, eyeballing the red bow and wondered just what the hell this was. He slipped it into his bag, contemplating who and what. Curiosity got the best of him and he headed for the production truck, figuring if it was anything amusing. He could at least have copies made of it. If it wasn't anything worth bothering with, it could be destroyed.

Matthew nearly peed himself with joy when he spotted David heading towards the trucks, knowing exactly where he was going to go. This was perfect! Batista was a spiteful bastard and a devious one at that, this could go way better than he had planned.

"Hey Batista, what can I do for you?"

"Play this for me."

"Okay…"

The footage of the video played, both David and the production guy blinking at what they were watching.

"Is that-" His eyes crossed when David pressed a finger to his mouth, shutting him up.

Then he whipped out a crisp $100 bill and slid it into the man's front shirt pocket, patting it none too gently. "During my segment tonight with Taker, play this. Only when I order you too. Keep this between us and when you're done, make sure the tape is destroyed." He walked out with an extra kick in his step, whistling and rubbed his hands together.

Emery would regret blowing him off at the WrestleMania afterparty, possibly with her life.

* * *

"Congrats Taker!"

"You script jumpin' sumbitch!"

"Do you have any idea how fined you are?"

"Bill me."

Mark laughed as he strolled down the hallway, bag over one shoulder, HIS gold over his shoulder, emerald green orbs dancing behind the black shades he wore. He disappeared into the dressing room marked especially for him and began chuckling wickedly. Tonight was going to be a celebration, he decided. He'd take Emery out, properly, and they'd suitably celebrate his win.

* * *

Knocking on Vince's door, Emery had caught Mark's eye on her way to the boss's office, sending him a wink before stepping inside, closing the door behind her. "Okay boss, here is the change for tonight's script. I hope it's satisfactory."

Vince was still irate at Taker, but after thinking it over he realized Emery's idea had been completely stupid. Why would they want to end the Streak? He understood where she was coming from, but it was ultimately his decision to push the line through and he was wrong for doing it. That was why Taker wasn't getting a fine the size of Guatemala sent to him.

"Let me see it." He slipped his glasses on and began reading through it, nodding in approval. "Short, sweet and to the point. I like it. I'll make copies and have my assistant hand it out to everyone."

"Thank you, sir." She left the office and headed back to her own, feeling a chill in the air for some reason wash over her. What the hell was going on?

Mark reviewed the night's events before dressing, taking his own sweet time. That feeling was back, that feeling of change and apprehension. Now Mark was not a superstitious man, but this just wasn't something he could shake. He attributed it to the fact he was probably going to wind up jumped or something, David had been pissed. Screw him! He glanced at the clock, knowing they'd have him out there soon enough.

However, David may have lost WrestleMania, but he had definitely won the war and it hadn't even started yet. He was ready to go, having been eagerly anticipating this. That bitch was going down and it would serve her right.

When the bells tolled, Matthew let out a little excited squeal, his eyes lighting up. It was time!

He didn't get to talk; he rarely did anymore unless it was for a promo of him doing something evil, but his eyes usually said it all. Told the entire story and, when they narrowed in on Batista, coming out all pumped up and pissed off, they spoke volumes. He wanted to rip the other man's head off.

Emery turned the monitor on, enjoying watching Mark slowly make his way down to the ring with the world title strapped around his waist. He looked delicious in the black leather duster and hat…even his makeup was on point. How the hell did a man in black eyeliner made her panties drench? Emery would never, ever understand her taste in men and chuckled to herself, waiting for David to make his entrance. The script called for Mark not to say a word and he'd done it, thankfully. No more script jumping please, she thought, scratching her forehead while watching the scene unfold. When David took the microphone, Emery felt her eyes widen at the words that came out of his mouth.

He had jumped script!

David was doing more than breaking script; he was about to shatter everything completely. This would teach everyone not to screw around, to play things straight. When a person broke script and screwed over others… things got personal.

"It makes sense, Taker." He began, pacing back and forth in front of the stoic Deadman, who was staring at him out of narrowed eyes. "I couldn't figure out why you got off so easy. Why you were able to get away with it this past Sunday, but now I do. Now, I get it…" He pointed a finger up at the titan tron. "You've been… resting in peace, so to speak, with very important people, Taker."

Matthew had a joygasm when that video played.

He had played David just like a fiddle.

Emery went stark white at what came over the screen next, covering her mouth with her hand and her sky blues went wide in both shock and fear.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

" _Matthew better get a handle on things or else he's gonna find himself on the unemployment line."_

" _No doubt, he's supposed to be handling the wrestlers' grievances and shit, right?"_

" _Yeah and Mattie boy hasn't been living up to the amount of money he's being paid. Think we should put itching powder in his pants or something? Maybe we should just talk to the Deadman, clear everything up? He can be professional."_

" _You should quit smoking weed, it's obviously damaging your brain cells."_

" _Oh yeah, sure. I'll get right on that." Sarcasm dripped in Emery's voice.  
_

" _This is the same man who came to my office, after Paul did those flyers, and spanked my ass so hard, I had bruises for 2 weeks. Talking isn't going to fix anything. The ONLY way this ends is if I change the line for WrestleMania and that's NOT happening."_

" _Okay, so… curious." Randy shifted in his seat so he was staring at Emery. "Why David?"_

" _Yeah, no shit. He's an asshole, you know that, right?"_

" _He's the world champion right now and Vince told me he was holding the title until or after WrestleMania. I had no choice. Vince wanted Undertaker in the championship picture, which is why he's winning the Royal Rumble and going onto Mania to wrestle for the title. Batista is new blood, as much as I hate saying it. New blood needs to make their mark in the business. It won't grow without newer stars rising to the occasion and Taker is a veteran. I don't like it any more than you two, believe me."_

" _Okay, one last question…He's won…14 WrestleMania's, right? Like, consecutively. That's a pretty big deal. I think he's going to buck that line of Vince's, and yours."_

" _That's between him and Vince then. All I do is come up with the ideas, good and bad, and it's out of my hands after that."_

All Emery could think once that footage ended was how screwed she was and could see the fury building on Mark's face through the screen. He was LIVID.

Livid was not the word.

So many things were spilling through him. Had they known they were being recorded? They were talking pretty freely and he wondered if Emery had just been screwing with him, both figuratively and literally, this entire time. David took advantage of the Deadman's obvious issues and speared him to the ground. He had just aired everything, broken some cardinal rules of wrestling and spilled all that personal information for the world to see, providing Vince just didn't order this episode of Smackdown! to be lost forever.

Randy was now being escorted to the trainer's office to be drug tested. What the shit had just happened?

Mark sat up from the spear, adrenaline overriding everything. He didn't give a rat's ass about David Batista right now. Emery had some answering to do. He tossed the other man over the top rope, staring towards the stage, knowing she was watching in the back. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dragged his hand across his throat. She had set him up to lose.

That had all been her idea.

She was a dead woman walking.

"Emery!"

Her head snapped up at the sound of Cheryl's panicked voice and looked into the woman's tear-filled eyes, opening and closing her mouth several times, but no words came out. What the HELL just happened?! When was THAT recorded?! Who had set her and the boys up? Her brain was going a mile a minute, her heart pounding in her ears while Cheryl cried her eyes out. Randy was being suspended for 30 days without pay due to failing the wellness policy because of his weed smoking. The truth was out. Everything was out in the open and there was no more running or hiding. No more proxy.

"Cheri, go be with Randy and tell him I'll call him later." She ordered in a monotone voice, watching the woman bolt down the hallway to hopefully catch her boyfriend. "Oh god…" Closing her eyes, Emery buried her head in her hands, wondering if Vince had set this up.

Vince was on his way to Emery. As soon as Mark had gotten backstage, security had been waiting. He had seen the psycho in those green eyes and knew what Mark Calaway was capable of when he lost his mind.

"Get out, you're done for the night," He ordered, putting up a hand when Emery opened her mouth. "Do it. I'm not kidding, get the hell out of here."

"EMERY!"

Jumping at the sound of Mark's angry booming voice, Emery felt true raw terror for the very first time and felt tears sting her eyes. "Vince…"

"Woman, security can't hold him forever! Get your ass up and MOVE!" Vince was in a panic, not wanting anything to happen to his diamond in the rough and began packing up her belongings, shoving everything in her bag. "Go! You have 5 days off and you can take the company jet out of here. It's waiting at the airport."

Blinking, tears slid down her cheeks. "Vince, I didn't…"

"I know, I know this wasn't your fault and you're not being punished for it. This is me saving your goddamn ass, now MOVE IT!"

Nodding, Emery would save her cry for later and took her stuff, flying out of the arena in the opposite direction where Mark was currently being contained by security. She didn't stop running, not for anything while people just stared after her, the shock written on their faces. David had completely destroyed her with that revelation and now she had no idea how she was supposed to continue her job with the WWE.

Vince was pretty proud of himself for getting her out of there. He was saving her, sure, but he was also preparing for the hell coming his way, from everyone. Removing her from the building would help a little bit, but not much.

"Now, Mark… Mark, MARK!" He let out a strangled sound when the giant's hand wrapped around his throat.

"Where. Is. She?" He hissed, tightening his grip with each word.

Vince was having a hard time replying, his face turning red.

Snarling, Mark dropped his boss and looked around, his face showing his rage, acidic eyes spitting fire. "WHERE IS SHE?"

Where was his popcorn? He needed popcorn! Matthew needed this on video, so he could watch it again and again. This would be his favorite DVD of all time. Served that bitch right! It wasn't just the Undertaker, he knew there would be others who would want a word with her. This was going to be the best shit storm ever.

Emery was long gone and tried calling Randy, but didn't get an answer. She hoped he didn't hate her because she had nothing to do with him being outed for smoking weed. Crying once she was on the private jet Vince had waiting, Emery threw her face in her hands, shaking her head. Being a billionaire had its perks. It was headed toward Phoenix and she would drive the rest of the way to Scottsdale. There was no way she could go home, Mark knew where she lived and would no doubt track her down. He didn't know here her parents resided though, or she hoped he didn't, remembering his conversation with Frankie.

Had the man mentioned where exactly they lived? Emery couldn't remember and sighed, looking out the window as silent tears slid down her cheeks. Things would never be the same between her and Mark again – all the lies had finally come back to bite her square on the backside. Everyone in the company knew she was the true lead script writer – all those ideas had been hers that were portrayed on television. Emery would not quit her job, she loved the WWE too much to walk away and would handle the storm headed her way after her 5 days off.

* * *

"Emery, what happened?" Her mother demanded the moment Emery walked through their front door. "Honey…" Seeing the streaks from tears staining her daughter's face, she pulled Emery into her arms. She shot her husband a helpless look, deciding now would probably not be the time to tell their daughter about the black roses that had arrived… along with the card that read: Sorry for your loss.

Mark had remembered and also beat the hell out of Vince's personal assistant, after acquiring addresses and phone numbers galore.

"Oh Mom…" Emery held her tightly, wrapping her arms around her mother's neck and cried, trembling from head to toe. "I messed up. I messed up a lot." She sobbed, feeling safer in the presence of her parents. After being guided into the house, past the black roses, Emery sat on the couch and explained what happened in shaky voice. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I was just doing my job and figured having a proxy was the smart thing to do. I'm a woman in a man's world…who the hell would've listened to a dork chick like me anyway?" She started crying again, calling herself the same thing Mark had when they warred against each other. Emery was not mentioning him, not if she could help it. "Why is this happening to me? All I did was my job…"

"Honey."

Her Dad kneeled down in front of her, frowning as he considered how he was supposed to word this. This was just… in all her years at that company, they had never had any issues. She had never had any issues. Those roses weren't the only thing that had happened. They had been receiving phone calls, Queensryche playing, but nothing else. They were guessing it was for Emery.

"It'll be okay… you just wait here and everything will blow over before your days off are up."

"You really think so, Daddy?" Emery rarely called him that, but at the same time she was terrified and it showed in her sky blues. Sky blues that mirrored his perfectly.

"Of course, has your man ever steered you wrong?" He smiled, tapping her nose and kissed her forehead, pulling her into his arms hugging her close. "I promise, it'll all blow over and you'll go back to work to do what you do best."

Nodding, Emery believed in her father and felt a little better, wiping her tears away. "Thanks Daddy. I've missed you." She planned on staying here for the duration of her 5 days off before going back to the company, unless Vince wanted her to stay away longer. "I'm gonna go freshen up and see if my room is the way I left it."

"Okay pumpkin, go for it. Momma is making dinner, your favorite. So bring your appetite and take a shower. It'll make you feel better."

"Okay."

"We should have told her…"

"No. Just… let's see if it stops. Get rid of the flowers, and I've already deleted the messages off the answering machine."

"She has the right to know that someone is… I don't know, but harassing her?"

"Or it could just be a coincidence."

Or it could be a pissed off ex-fuck-buddy who did not appreciate being toyed with or lied to. Volume Two of her comic was on its way to her house. Mark had spent all night and a lot of money, but it was done. It had started with their new relationship after that night, where Volume One had ended. And the ending of this comic was her betrayal of him, followed by a sneak peak of Volume Three. Where he tombstoned her so hard, her head exploded.

Emery would have a rude awakening when she arrived home, but she wouldn't be going there for a while, deciding staying in the safety and security of her parents was the smart thing to do right now. Homecooked meals and playing video games with her father made everything a lot better. Her mother had even made her favorite dessert, pumpkin cheesecake. She laughed at something her father said regarding blowing him up in the current game they were playing.

"I swear, the more things change the more they stay the same." Dana shook her head at her husband and daughter, though it did her heart good to see them together again.

"Dad, there's one on your left!"

"I see it, you got my back?"

"Always, just don't get us blown up…FUCK!" Grenade had blown her character to smithereens.

Shaking her head, Dana went to go get the door. "Oh my…"

Mark stood there, smiling brightly. His scruff was trimmed, hair pulled back and he wore light blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a dragon print on it, shades tucked into his collar. "Hello, ma'am, my name is Mark Calaway." He held out his hand. "I'm Emery's boyfriend."

"Her…"

"Boyfriend." He repeated, shaking her hand when she slid it in his. "Emery took off during the Smackdown! taping, after what happened, can't say I blame her. I've tried calling, but her cell must be off and Frank gave me your address. If she's here… could you give her a message?"

"Emery has a boyfriend?"

Mom was a winner.

"Come on in, I'm so glad someone is on her side… she's been… depressed since she got home. Maybe you'll be able to cheer her up."

"I hope so, ma'am."

"Mom, who is…?" Emery's words trailed off at who was at her parents' front door and swallowed hard, sky blues wide.

"Emery, sweetheart, why didn't you tell us you had a boyfriend?"

BOYFRIEND?! Since when were her and Mark in a relationship?! Did Emery miss the memo somewhere? "I – uh…" She could see the evil gleam in Mark's eyes and felt her father walk up to stand beside her, feeling his hand on her shoulder.

"Who do we have here?"

"This is Emery's boyfriend, apparently. Sweetheart, care to explain?" Dana asked sweetly, looking back and forth between her daughter and Mark Calaway.

Emery grunted when Mark swept her up in his arms and hugged her, knowing she had to put up a front for her parents. She couldn't let them know this man wanted her head on a silver platter. The anger radiating off him wasn't missed through the embrace, but Emery returned it regardless and felt her feet touch the floor again. "Sorry…a lot happened and…I thought he was going home to Texas for his days off. Mark, this is my Dad, Trent and my Mom, Dana."

Dana grinned, seeing her daughter had snapped out of her shocked state and shook the giant's hand before he moved to her husband. "My goodness, I'm making a feast tonight to celebrate!" Finally, her daughter had found someone!

"Uh Mom, I don't think…" Emery groaned when the woman didn't pay attention to her and shook her head, her insides quaking.

What the hell was Mark doing here?

"Ma'am, I would be grateful for the hospitality." Mark said, keeping his arm wrapped firmly around Emery's shoulders and dropped a kiss on the side of her head. Trent did not look as easily placated as Dana, or fooled, and he surveyed the 'head nerd' thoughtfully. "Sir."

"Where are you staying, son?"

"There's a motel 6, I got a room there, sir."

"Good."

"Dad, I'm gonna give Mark the tour. Finish up the siege for me, will you?"

At his nod, Emery grabbed her 'boyfriend's' hand and guided him through the house, not bothering to show him any of the rooms. She headed straight for outside and immediately released his hand, knowing they had to keep their voices down. Wrapping her arms around herself, Emery knew her judgment day had finally arrived. Running to her parents had been a mistake because now they were caught in the crossfire of what would undoubtedly be a fight.

"What are you doing here, Calaway?" Emery finally asked, knowing they were far enough away from the house where their conversation wouldn't be eavesdropped on.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

"What the fuck do you think I'm doing here, Emery?" Mark hissed back at her, turning to shield her from view from the windows with his large frame. The friendly smile was gone, replaced with nothing but fathomless rage. The warmth in his emerald green eyes nothing but vengeful acid. "YOU were the one out to fuck with my legacy. YOU knew the entire time." His voice was dropping to a low, dark timbre with each word. " _You_ _lied to me, Emery_." He reached out to run his finger along her jawline, finally poking her harshly in the cheek, hard enough to make her stumble backwards. "You've been lying to me, toying with me, all this time. Haven't you?"

"No, I wasn't toying with you. I did my job, Mark. Not my fault if you don't like the way I do it." That was the wrong thing to say and she knew it, wincing when he grabbed her upper arm to yank her against him none too gently. "You're just like the rest, always throwing a baby fit because of a line you don't like. How about you stand back and realize that I WAS doing my job, it wasn't personal or anything. You're not the only one who wasn't happy with the lines I came up with over the past 10 years, but guess what? You get PAID to follow the scripts and do YOUR damn job in that ring. I refuse to apologize for doing my job. I didn't screw with you, I simply came up with suitable ideas that Vince approved. The only thing I lied to you about was my position in the company on the writing team. And I did it to protect myself from assholes like you."

"It does make sense, you know, your attitude that night… you were pissed because I jumped your little line." He snorted at the look that crossed her face. "No, sweetheart," He ran his hand through her hair, gripping it tightly in his fist. "You weren't just _doing_ your job, you were fucking him. You knew better, you knew that match was wrong; you admitted as much and yet still pushed it. You pushed me. Was that why you were such a slut for me, Emery? Trying to get me to forgive you for your lies and for trying to ruin my career?"

When her lying lips opened, he kissed her, brutalizing her with his mouth. There was nothing sweet, nothing loving, in this kiss. It was all about dominance and making her feel just a hint of the betrayal he had.

"I'm paid," He whispered against her lips. "To entertain people, to put asses in seats, not be your fucking toy."

Tears swelled in her eyes at the brutalizing kiss, which would've normally turned her on, but instead all it did was break her heart. "I didn't push for anything. Vince was dead set on the line once I turned it in. There was no changing his mind and you know that. I wasn't toying with you, for the final damn time! And I fucked you because I wanted to, because for a fraction of a second, I thought you were a decent guy. A little rough around the edges, a little overbearing and demanding, but I was fine with it. I didn't fuck you to save face. I didn't look at you as my damn job either! If I was going to do that, why didn't I do it during the Corporate Ministry days?" The fire in his eyes made her recoil a little, even though he still had a hold of her hair. "You were never my toy, Mark. This was never business to me, not one second we were together."

She had been the driving force behind HIS baby being destroyed! The one line he had genuinely enjoyed, his Ministry, and it was her who had ruined it! "You _thought_ I was a decent guy?" He sniffed indignantly. "You should've known better, Queenie, especially after everything I did to you." Mark pressed his head to hers, flashing her a smile full of dark intentions. "Like I told you before, precious, you're a sucker for pain."

"Yeah well, I'm done with that now." Emery had made a fatal mistake getting involved with him and, no matter what she said to him, he wouldn't see past his own pride and stubbornness. "Maybe I am a glutton for punishment, and maybe part of me does enjoy it to some extent, but I'm done toying with you now." If that's how he thought she saw him, why not add more fuel to the fire? "Trust me, I won't be 'toying' with your career anymore. As a matter of fact, I'll let one of the other writers deal with your shit from now on. It won't be touched by me. Now let go of my hair and leave. I'm done – we're done." Boyfriend her ass, he was never her boyfriend and the fact he lied to her parents outright just angered her further, her eyes nothing more than ice now.

"Oh, I'm leaving, DC." He susurrated, not missing the ice in those eyes he had once adored. "But we're not done, not by a long shot." She owed him reparations. Her backside hadn't even begun to feel his wrath and he smirked, the green venom disappearing when her mother called out to them. "Are you going to play happy girlfriend or shall I see about terrorizing them next, hmm?" He had noted a lot of expensive collectibles in that house… he was not above setting it on fire.

"You son of a bitch!" Emery remarked in a hiss of her own, not believing he was threatening her parents and dried the tears up, knowing she had no choice.

Her mother would be heartbroken if Mark didn't stay for dinner. What did he mean they weren't done? She wanted nothing to do with him and had made it abundantly clear. The sooner they ate, the sooner Mark would get the hell out of here and hopefully stay out of her life.

"Leave my parents alone, Neanderthal. Fine, let's go, boyfriend." Batting her lashes at him, Emery took his hand and walked back into the house with him, knowing dinner was almost finished, or so she thought. "Smells delicious, Mom."

"Mmm, it does." He agreed, that charming smile back on his face. "You must've been the one who taught Emery how to cook so well."

"About the only thing that comes from me, she is her father's daughter through and through." Dana agreed, smiling at them. "What did she cook for you?" She nodded when he recounted the breakfast, eyeing her daughter. Breakfast being cooked, that implied they were intimate and she hoped her daughter was being safe. "Know your way around a kitchen, Mark?"

"Enough to burn water." He laughed, accepting the chores she then gave him as final things were done for dinner.

Emery smirked, accepting a water her father handed her and enjoyed watched her mother boss Mark around, guiding him around the kitchen. She groaned when she was given potatoes to peel and shook her head, eyeballing the other room longingly. "Mom, Dad and I have a raid…" Emery immediately recoiled at the stern look, the 'mother' look she'd dubbed it as a young child and immediately grabbed the peeler with the potatoes, starting to do as her mother demanded.

"So, how long have you two been together?"

"A month." Emery answered promptly, smirking at her mother's shocked look and rolled her eyes at her mother's shocked expression. "Mom, I'm not a virgin, so get that look off your face."

"EMERY ADDISON!"

She groaned, dropping her head shaking it back and forth. "Just saying…"

"We met at work. She was doing the main line for WrestleMania, which is our version of the NFL's Super Bowl." He explained with a smile, throwing Emery a wink. "She was busy… collaborating with our co-worker, Batista. Getting together with him about it, but…"

"You bucked her script, didn't you?"

"A little bit." He smiled sheepishly. "Boss made sure I regretted it." When Dana turned, he looked pointedly at Emery.

She glared back at him, the smile leaving her face, until her mother turned her attention back on her. "Just like Dad said, everything will be fine in time." Emery did not feel comfortable having Mark around her parents and wasn't surprised when he announced they were leaving in the morning to go back to Sedona for the rest of their days off. Her mother looked at her and Emery could only nod, finishing the potatoes before excusing herself to walk out of the kitchen. Sedona alone with him…no…she couldn't do that and went up to her room, trying to think of some way out of this without jeopardizing her parents lives. Pacing back and forth, Emery contemplated running away and immediately dismissed it, knowing if she defied Mark her parents would pay for it.

"Shit…"

The problem with people was that they were too trusting and Dana had allowed him to pour the drinks. Once Dana and Daddy dearest were sound asleep, thanks to the sleeping pills he had dropped in each glass except his and Emery's, he moved them to the couch. Flipping on the TV, Mark began trolling the house, looking for his Queen bitch.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" He singsonged, knowing it'd take a siren right in their faces to wake those two. "Oh _Emery_ …"

Her head snapped up at the sound of Mark's sinister voice and fought the urge to slam her bedroom door shut when he came into view. She had no idea what happened to her parents and could see the evil intentions in his eyes, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Emery backed up as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him with authority, her eyes widening.

"Mark, you've had your fun, now you need to leave. I'm done with this. I'm DONE, do you hear me? I don't want to do this anymore." Didn't he stipulate once one of them called it quits with the other, they had to part mutually? "Please, don't make this any harder than it needs to be…"

"See, you're calling on that rule, darlin." Mark clucked his tongue at her. "The one where, when one of us decided we were done, we just stopped?" He leaned back against the door, taking in her bedroom, cocking a black eyebrow and looked darkly amused. "That was before I found out you were lying and whoring yourself to me." Because… her lying knowingly while sleeping with him hadn't done anything to endear her to him. "This could have all been avoided… if you had just been HONEST!" He bellowed, suddenly in her face, green eyes demonic.

"And then what? You would've laughed me to hell and back if I told you I was the lead script writer – that I was responsible for nearly every idea that's been on WWF/WWE television within the past decade!" Emery shouted, trembling from head to toe and backed up a little more, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Who would've taken a dork chick like me seriously? Vince came to me with the idea to get a proxy, someone to handle the wrestlers while I stayed in the shadows writing the ideas. He had to approve every single one of them! So, you can't only be pissed at me, you should be pissed at him too! AND I DID NOT WHORE MYSELF OUT TO YOU!" Hauling off, she slapped him across the face, not caring if her parents heard and felt her heart shatter in her chest all over again. "I WANTED YOU FOR YOU – I CAME TO YOU FOR YOU! NOT BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING JOB!"

His eyes were closed, relishing the pain from her slap, focusing on it, reveling in it. "I don't believe you, Emery." He whispered, not opening his eyes. "I don't believe a word you say." Green met blue and he refused to break the stare. "I don't believe you wanted me at all, Emery. I think you only cared about yourself, and about your fucking job, your precious… lines," He sneered the word. "You might be a brilliant writer, but you don't understand a fucking thing about us wrestlers, about what we put in this business, about what we _give_." Tears, sweat, blood… everything they had in them and more. "Knowing you as I do now…" Mark shook his head, stepping away from her. "You played us like we were one of your fucking video games. Pack your shit. We're leaving."

"No, I'm not going anywhere with you. I am DONE being pushed around and ridiculed by you! I did my damn job just like you did! I was wrong about WrestleMania, okay? I admit that, I accept that, why can't you? You got what you wanted in the end! Your legacy remained intact and Batista didn't win!" Emery shook her head vehemently, folding her arms in front of her chest and didn't bother wiping the tears away that fell. "Just leave me alone. You don't believe a word I say, so we're done. THIS is DONE. Me and you are OVER! Now leave. I'm not going back to Sedona with you – I'm not going ANYWHERE you'll be and that's a promise." Maybe quitting WWE would be in her best interest; TNA was still hiring and she would be far away from this man.

At her words, an evil smile crept across his face. "Promises are made to be broken, my Queen." Mark mockingly bowed to her before reaching out and whipped her into his arms, applying a sleeper hold to her. "Ssshhh, ssshhh… hush Emery…" He whispered almost soothingly as she struggled against him. "I've got you… I've got you, Queenie…" As her world went dark, he began laughing. It was dark, deep, and something broken was in that baritone as well. "I've got you, my little liar."

Lifting her in his strong arms, Mark carted her out of the bedroom and downstairs, glancing in the living room at the still knocked out parents. He would never hurt them because he loved this little conniving bitch currently unconscious in his arms. Mark had only applied enough pressure to knock her out, not wanting to actually hurt her, even with as much as he wanted her to feel pain the same way he did. They would hash this out somewhere more privately, somewhere nobody would be able to hear her screams in both pain and pleasure. Opening the passenger door, Mark set her inside and buckled her in, sneering at the peaceful expression on her face. He ran a finger down her cheek to her jaw and neck, breathing somewhat heavily from how much rage coursed through him. Gritting his teeth, Mark slammed the door shut and slipped into the driver's side, firing up the truck.

It was a somewhat decent trip to Sedona…where it all began for them and where it would probably shatter to pieces.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Snapping awake hours later, Emery bolted upright breathing heavily and a scream caught in her throat, clutching her it. She looked around, tears pooled in her eyes and immediately reached for her glasses on the nearby nightstand, sliding them on. Without them, she couldn't see two feet in front of her. It took a minute for her to realize where she was – her bed, her house…Sedona. Oh god…Emery trembled as she stumbled out of bed, looking down at the t-shirt she had on and checked below, breathing a huge sigh of relief at feeling her panties.

"Please don't be here, please don't be here…" She whispered, terrified out of her mind and opened the door, screaming bloody murder at the sight of Mark standing there. "NO!"

He had been checking her mail, her voicemail and email, replying to texts messages on her behalf. Her friends were worried and Orton was trying to explain how he didn't blame her for his suspension. He just wanted to know how the hell that had all gone down. Mark also had her new comic book; he had been so happy about that, the blood where her head hit the mat at the end was hilarious.

"Shut the fuck up." He ordered, throwing the comic in her face. "Mail call, Emery."

"No!" Emery threw it right back in his face, watching it bounce off his chest and land on the carpeted floor below at his feet. "I – I want nothing from you…"

He had knocked her out with a sleeper hold and kidnapped her from her parents' house! This had gotten out of hand and Emery was officially terrified now, seeing he had her phone in his hand. If there was a way she could get to it, she'd send Randy an SOS to come save her. Her parents…

"Please tell me my parents are okay. Please tell me you didn't hurt them…" When he showed her a text from her mother asking if she'd made it home safely, Emery collapsed on the bed and put her face in her hands, relief flooding her entire body that her parents were safe and sound.

"They think we all had a bit too much to drink and I let them know I brought you home since you're _so_ worried about the fallout from WrestleMania. Randy is suspended, the little pothead, and Cheryl is asking your advice on a million things. I told her to go ahead on giving David his rematch at Backlash. I'm looking forward to it, thanks for that." Mark then crushed her phone in his fist. "Your laptops and computer bullshit are gone, by the way. You can have it all back after I leave."

"Why did you do that?! That was my phone!" Emery snapped, not believing he just crushed her phone as the pieces dropped to the carpeted floor alongside the comic book. "Then leave. What the fuck is stopping you? Just walk out the door and go home or, better yet, go to hell!" When he took a step toward her, Emery scrambled to the other side of the bed, not wanting to be anywhere near him. He scared her to death as her hand clutched her throat, the tears in her eyes flowing down her cheeks. "This is my house and you're not welcome here anymore. Get out now!"

"You're cute, thinking you have a say in anything anymore, sweetheart." Mark kneeled on the bed, staring at her in pure amusement. "Your say was all in those little storylines you spun… that's your world, Queenie. We're not in _your_ world and you have _no_ say, not anymore." Quick as lightening he was off the bed and had her pinned to the wall, his hands splayed on either side of her head. His knee firmly planted between her legs so she couldn't nail him in the balls. "You never said no before anyway, not to the point of meaning it. Why start now?" He bent down, inhaling her scent of fear mixed with her own personal one and let out a low rumble of approval.

"That's before I realized what a psychotic bastard you are."

Emery didn't know if Mark would rape her, not knowing a damn thing about this man apparently. All she could do was stand there, trembling in fear with absolutely no desire in her body language. She had fallen for a monster and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.

"No – NO!" Digging her nails into his bare chest, Emery shoved him as hard as she could with all the strength she could muster up in her body and made him fall back on the bed with her on top of him. The velocity forced her to slide off him to the floor and she scrambled to her feet, bolting down the hallway toward the front door. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

When he heard a thud, Mark knew she had tripped over the saran wrap he had put up at the entrance of the hall, laughing as he followed her at a leisurely pace. "Now Emery, as if I don't know how spry and wily you can be…" He dropped down over her, straddling her and grabbed her hands when she went to hit him. "I told you before, you'd never get the last word in. You'd never be able to walk out to end a conversation, none of that. Why is it, you seem hell bent on ignoring everything I've told you, Queenie?"

"Get off me!" She shouted, struggling against him and cried her heart out, having face planted into the carpet. Her face did not feel good at the moment and she was pretty sure her chin would be bruised come morning. "I don't want you! I don't want anything to do with you!" Emery balled her fists up tightly, the icy rage burning in her eyes as she tried finding a way out of this predicament. "What are you gonna do? Rape me? Because that's the only way I'll give myself to you again, asshole!" She spat in his face, literally, gritting her teeth angrily while her entire body trembled against him to the point where her teeth began to slowly chatter.

"Rape you?" His voice dripped with disdain as he stared down at her intently. "DC, get serious… this isn't one of your little role-playing games. Why the fuck would I want to rape YOU?" Mark began laughing at her. "Sweetheart, you gave up the goods so many times that rape would be really, really redundant." He pushed himself off her, hand grabbing hold of her loose hair, dragging her up onto her feet.

"Fuck you!"

Then she did something she hadn't done before and nailed him directly between the legs, his hand instantly releasing her hair. Emery stumbled back while he roared out in pain, dropping to his knees and she could only stare at him in bewilderment, not believing she just did that. Did she really just kick Undertaker below the belt?! There would be no more games played between them as she stepped over the saran wrap and quickly pulled something from under her bed, pulling out her gun. It was small, but effective and if he didn't leave her house, she would shoot him. Putting the bullets inside of it, she clicked it back and walked back inside the living room, seeing him STILL on his knees cursing violently.

"I'm only telling you this once, so pay attention." Clicking the trigger back, she held the gun steadily as heartbreaking tears slid down her cheeks. "Get the fuck out of my house and out of my life. I want nothing to do with you. I want nothing to do with your sick twisted games anymore. I'm DONE with all of it. And if you don't think this thing is loaded, I can prove you wrong by shooting you in the leg. So, what's it going to be, Calaway? Life or death?"

"Can't escape your video game shit can you?" He groaned, rolling onto his back and exhaled slowly. "You set yourself as a hero… slaying us all with your stories and then, when the bad guy rises, you get to be the temporary victim, then rise up to slay him. Be my fucking guest, shoot me." His eyes closed and, when it felt like he could stop holding his poor balls, he folded his hands beneath his head. "You already tried destroying my career… you've lied repeatedly to me while sleeping with me… Might as well shoot me too."

"Is that what you really think? You actually believe that bullshit you just spewed out of your mouth, don't you? You believe that I see my job, the thing I've done for 10 years and poured MY blood, sweat and tears into – good or bad – as a GAME? I've got news for you, Calaway, unlike SOME people, I separate fact from fiction! I don't take my love for gaming THAT seriously! I didn't try destroying your career either, how could you even say that? I gave Vince a line and it was a wrong move on my part, but…I wasn't thinking about just you when I wrote it. I was thinking about WrestleMania as a whole, the company as a whole. I meant what I said, new blood has to rise and Batista was the champion. Do you think I wanted to hand him that victory at WrestleMania? NO! I didn't, but there was no choice. Vince wanted you in the world title picture with Batista and…at the time…yes, I made a mistake by writing out that you should lose at Mania to him. But I'm only human, Mark. I'm a human fucking being and I make mistakes! It's not just you that I've made mistakes with!" Emery put the safety on the gun and walked away from him to sit on the couch, still holding it on her lap and couldn't stop trembling. "I never thought of you as a means to an end. I really truly enjoyed being with you. I had fun with you. You made me forget about my stressful job and made me question everything about myself. After getting to know you and seeing how passionate you are about your job, I realized that I made a colossal mistake, but there was nothing I could do to change it. Vince signed off on it, and you got what you wanted in the end anyway. You're the champion, your legacy is still intact and now you've scared me so damn badly, I nearly put a bullet in you! The only thing I can say is I'm sorry. I won't ever touch your scripts again, I swear to you. Cheryl can handle yours, she's good at what she does and comes up with decent ideas and you can even collaborate with her if it makes you feel better. Just please…no more…" Tossing the gun on the coffee table, Emery buried her head in her hands. "And I'm no hero – I never was and I never will be."

"You're goddamn right you're no hero! You're a meddling, lying bitch is what you are."

Mark was up and had swiped that gun away out of her reach. Apparently, a sleeper hold to settle her down and relocate her for their impending argument had caused her flight or fight and 'terrified of him' instincts to rise. It was kind of stupid actually, because of everything he had done before, she should have been scared a long time ago.

"Why… Emery, just… why? Why couldn't you tell me the truth? You thought so little of me…"

"No! No I didn't! I didn't think little of you…I-I was scared to tell you the truth. Scared of you finding out and ruining what we had going on. I didn't want it to end." Emery cried out, scooting further down the couch instinctively and wrapped her arms around her drawn up knees tightly. "The only thing I lied to you about was my position on the writing team, Mark. Other than that, I've been completely honest with you. It was my job to write out scripts for Vince and he approved them or denied them. I never once thought of you as my job while I was fucking you or hanging out with you. I was a coward and I'm sorry – I'm sorry…"

Her heart shattered to pieces because the harsh realization crashed over her at that moment. She was in love with this Neanderthal. Dropping down against the wall, Mark slid to the floor. His balls were killing him and he had a sudden fear of testicle retrieval in his near future. He eyed the gun in his hand, removing the bullet and tossed it across the room before throwing the gun in the opposite direction.

"The truth always sets you free, Emery." He whispered, knowing she could hear him loud and clear. "All lies do is destroy…" He was such an asshole, he cared for this dork more than he had thought he would.

"I know."

Emery understood that better than ever, having learned a valuable lesson with this entire situation. She didn't move from the couch, continuing to tremble and curled up in a tight ball, sobbing. Mark had scared the hell out of her and her heart wouldn't stop hammering against her chest. It was beating faster than a jackrabbit's and she tried to take deep breaths, only to remember the sleeper hold all over again. If he was capable of all this, what else could he do to her? He was right though; lies did destroy because what they had was obliterated due to her lies. Not moving, Emery just kept her eyes closed and tried to calm herself down somehow before she ended up having a heart attack. She was struggling to get her breathing under control and, for a brief moment, a flash of remorse entered his eyes. Mark gingerly pushed himself upright and limped his way over to sit on the couch. He felt her tense, even as he pulled her onto his lap. He had meant to scare her and it had worked out better than he had planned.

"Calm down, darlin'." He whispered soothingly in her ear, stroking her hair. "Calm down, Emery."

She trembled against him for a solid hour, but eventually his body heat combined with exhaustion won out and her body slowly relaxed along with her breathing. Her heart rate also returned to normal along with her pulse, the fear slowly melting away. Then she cried hard, more than she had in her life, her tears soaking his bare chest while he continuously stroked her back up and down. After another hour, Emery finally pushed herself to sit upright on his lap and took her glasses off to wipe the excess tears away before cleaning and replacing them.

"Please tell me you believe me. T-Tell me you don't hate me, Mark…" Her red-rimmed bloodshot sky blues gazed into his emerald eyes, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "Please tell me you forgive me." It was spoken in a whisper.

Sighing, Mark buried his face in her hair and thought about it. He didn't know if he would believe her for a long time to come. If she would have come to him… told him, once they had started their relationship, past that first night… He had plenty of time to think about how he would have reacted and knew he would have been mad, but not like this. Mark would've forgave her without terrorizing her.

"I forgive you and I don't hate you." That was the best she was going to get right now.

"Okay."

That was enough for her. Emery didn't expect him to say he believed her because she would have to undoubtedly regain his trust. That was if she decided to stay with WWE and not find a different job. She had no idea if he even wanted to be with her anymore, knowing their friends with benefits had developed into something much more. What it was – she had no idea and didn't have enough strength inside of her to question anything. Emery meant what she said, Cheryl would be dealing with all of Mark's scripts from this day forward. She wouldn't touch anything of his in the company ever again, wanting no part of his character or legacy.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"Let me get you some ice."

Sliding off his lap, Emery walked over to the freezer, grabbing a Ziploc bag in the bottom drawer to fill it up with ice. A minute later, she had pressed it against his jean covered crotch and frowned when he hissed out in pain, wincing. Emery hadn't meant to kick him and felt terrible for hurting him, kissing his forehead softly.

"You meant it." He read and interpreted her thoughts from the myriad of emotions dancing in her vivid blue eyes. "You meant it because you were scared and angry."

Mark would admit, to himself, that she had every reason to feel that way and he maybe deserved it. He knew himself. He knew how his moods and sometimes even his entire personality took an abrupt turn. Something darker and more sinister; he had unleashed it all on her. He was worn out now and she looked it too. Sighing, he held that ice pack there and just stared at her.

"I'm making us something to eat and then we're going to bed and getting some sleep."

Emery had no more strength, fight or energy inside of her, trudging into the kitchen while he nursed his wounded pride and nether region. She made something quick, pouring some cans of Campbell's chunky potato soup into a pot to warm it up. It was cheating, but she honestly couldn't stomach anything else right now. While stirring the soup, silent tears slid down her cheeks and didn't bother wiping them away. It was from the after effect of the horrible fight they'd had…and Mark's volatile temper. Reaching up into the cabinet, she grabbed some crackers before procuring bowls, plates and spoons.

She had made them soup. His first reaction was to not touch it at all because… she may have poisoned it or something. The woman HAD threatened to shoot him after what he pulled. Apparently, she noticed his hesitation and promptly took a bite from each bowl. Mark wasn't starving, but it gave him something to do and it felt… ridiculous actually. They just had a major blowout… he had terrorized her, she had squashed his balls and now they were sitting here eating soup and crackers. Mark began laughing at how insane it all was.

Staring at him like he'd lost his mind, Emery started laughing as well, the sound heartbreaking instead of humorous. She couldn't stop laughing, half of her soup gone and had to set the bowl down on the coffee table, their laughter mixing together. What would've happened had she not pulled that gun out after kicking him below the belt? Would Mark have hurt her? What other games did he have in mind prior to stopping him? Emery was no longer hungry, touching her throat and could tell Mark wasn't hungry anymore either, their eyes meeting briefly.

"Come on, bedtime." She whispered, taking his bowl to set it on the coffee table and rose, extending her hand to him.

Mark hadn't missed the way her hand had moved to her throat and felt something very akin to remorse pulsate through him. He stood up, letting the ice pack fall to the ground and sighed inwardly. It looked like they both had given each other new issues and, whether or not they could fix them, and restore at least a friendship was something he wasn't sure they could do. He didn't trust her and she was afraid of him. Slowly, making sure she could read his intentions, Mark moved until his arms were around her, pulling her slowly in until she was folded against his chest.

'I'm sorry.' He mouthed against her hair, unable to get the actual words out just yet.

The embrace told her all she needed to know as her arms tightened around him, her face buried in his chest. Emery did trust him, he'd just scared her with the sleeper hold and everything else. At least World War III was over with because that's exactly what it'd felt like. They'd been in a war. Slowly pulling back from him to look up into his remorseful eyes, Emery did something she never thought she would do. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and forced his mouth down on hers, softly kissing him.

There was way more than friendship between them, Emery had no idea what it was, but hopefully in time she would be able to find out.

His body tensed at first with the kiss, but Emery felt him relax against her and her feet left the floor to be eyelevel with him, deepening the kiss a little more. It felt like her shattered heart had mended back together, no more tears falling from her eyes or fear and pain radiating from her body. That kiss was all she got from him, knowing that anything beyond that wouldn't help either one of them so much as hurt. Sex complicated things and, right now, neither of them needed anymore complication in their life. They needed sleep and then a long chat, or maybe more silence. Also… his balls hurt and not in the 'need empty' sort of way.

* * *

Soft classic rock played through the kitchen as Emery cooked breakfast, up much earlier than Mark and let him sleep. She knew he needed it, wanting the slightly dark circles to vanish from his eyes. Keeping the noise level down, she did her best to be quiet and had made waffles. It was a simple, she'd cheated and used pancake mix along with her Belgian waffle maker. With a side of scrambled eggs, made in butter, and bacon, she made each of them a plate and turned around, jumping slightly at the sight of him. She had on cotton white shorts and a black tank top, setting the plates on the table in front of him and looked up into his eyes. It felt wonderful sleeping in his arms the previous night, both of them having passed out almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

"Morning, I hope you're hungry."

He had fallen asleep in clothing and changed into a pair of black sweatpants this morning, not overly caring that they had sunk low on his hips. His black hair was tousled about his face and, in the morning light, he had noted dully that he needed a shave. "A little." He rumbled, moving over to the coffee pot, noticing she already had it going and reached for the mug she had set down, pouring himself a cup and simply stared at the cupboards.

With coffee and breakfast ingested silently, Emery put the dirty dishes in the sink and decided to do them later. They had to talk. Really talk. Not yell and scream at each other, but actually talk to find out where they stood. Sitting down on the couch, Emery sat Indian style and put her hands in her lap while he sat next to her, the tension thick between them.

"I'm thinking of…leaving the company." She finally broke the silence between them, keeping her eyes averted to her lap and heaved a sigh. "I just don't think I can repair what's been broken…and that includes us, whatever we had. I know it's damaged and I accept that. I can always get a job somewhere else, but…I wanted you to hear it from me in case I do decide to leave."

Mark had refilled his mug and occupied himself with it, taking a slow drink, studying her thoughtfully. "You don't have to leave your job because of me."

He accepted her terms; she would never touch his scripts again. Regardless of where they stood now, the fact that she had been sleeping with him, while also basically directing his career, didn't set well with him. Professional and personal never mixed. Her biggest issue had been him and David.

"I think the blowout from all this coming to light will be fast."

"It's more than that."

Emery had been publicly humiliated at the hands of David Batista. Someone had given him that footage, someone had planted cameras in her rental vehicle. She had a great memory and remembered having that conversation, it'd just been her, Paul and Randy in the car, nobody else. They'd been recorded and now the entire world saw it.

"I don't feel comfortable doing my job anymore. I don't want to be a script writer anymore, especially not the lead. Cheryl can have that position, she's more than earned it and has been there almost as long as I have. I think it would be best if I just…walked away and started over somewhere else where nobody knows me."

Go back to be the dork chick that everyone overlooked.

For a minute, Mark did not recognize this woman. He could only stare at her, wondering who had snatched Emery's body. That was her. That was her voice, but it wasn't her. "Darlin'," He reached out to take her hands in his, frowning when she tensed, angry at himself, not her. "Since when do you quit, hmm?" When she peered up into his face, he managed a soft smile. "You went toe to toe with me, several times, and didn't back down. Why would you start now?"

"I don't know…I don't know what to do anymore."

Emery felt so lost and confused, battling with herself because, on one hand, all she'd done was her job, but she had also lied to Mark about being responsible for the lines, specifically the WrestleMania fiasco. In truth, she was terrified to walk back into the company and face all the wrestlers because there were several lines Matthew had to take punishment for on her behalf. Now she couldn't touch Mark's scripts anymore…and she didn't know if Vince would allow that seeing as how she was the lead script writer.

"I just said I was thinking about it…I don't know if I'm gonna do it yet or not…"

Mark had already taken care of Vince, not that she needed to know that. He had made it very clear that he was fine with anyone except her coming up with lines from here on out, but HE reviewed everything and cleared it. He had worked for too long, giving breaks and holding everything together -the Monday night Wars came to mind-, for writers to think they could screw with him based on what they thought was right. Not happening anymore. He'd drop his streak, his legacy, but to someone of HIS choosing.

"Take a few days, darlin', think about it."

* * *

Despite her gut instincts to leave WWE and start over, she kept her job, after having a long meeting with Vince regarding her position in the company. Instead of being the lead script writer, she was now just part of the writing team. Cheryl had taken over her position as the lead script writer, at her request, and the woman had cried her heart out to Emery. She assured Cheryl she was deserving of the position and no other words were spoken about it. Over the next couple weeks, Emery kept to herself and left Mark alone, him doing the same, both deciding it was better not to mix business with pleasure any longer. They didn't have a long discussion about it; he simply left her in Sedona that weekend from hell and they'd gone on as if they didn't know each other.

As if that month of mind-blowing sex and passion hadn't taken place.

So, Emery had no friends, no allies and alienated herself from society, adopting her old ways of working, eating, gaming and sleeping. Since Vince had the dress code changed to where everyone had to dress up, besides a select few, whenever they had to work, Emery's jeans and t-shirts were a thing of the past. She stepped out of her rental, wearing a black skirt and light blue buttoned up blouse, her hair braided over her shoulder. She headed inside the arena to start the hectic day and walked into the writer's room, frowning at a package left on her desk.

He didn't mind the changes and kept to himself for a while, knowing he had hurt Emery with his abrupt leaving. Now not seeing her unless they had a chance passing in a hallway. Mark had to sort out his own thoughts and issues about what had happened. To decide whether or not he could learn to trust her again, providing she ever got over her fear of him. Time, period, was what was needed.

"What the hell?" It was a videotape with **WATCH ME** in bold black lettering on the front and side of it. There was a setup in the writer's room with a TV and VCR, so she walked over to pop it in, turning it on. Her eyes went wide, listening to her voice and Vince's talking about the Corporate Ministry angle.

" _Emery, this line is…brilliant, but are you sure it's the right thing to do?"_

" _Trust me Vince, when the fans see the McMahons and the Undertaker with his Ministry working together against Austin, it'll sell tickets like hot cakes. You won't have a vacant seat in the arena, I promise you."_

" _The Ministry of Darkness is Mark's sole idea…I don't know if he'd be alright with it being tampered with…" Vince sounded hesitant in the video._

" _Who's the boss? You or him? Vince, if you want to keep the ratings as high as they are, you've gotta do something to shock the fans. You've gotta WOW them or else WCW will start beating you in the ratings again. It's all about the ratings at the end of the day, so who cares what anyone else thinks?"_

" _Alright – alright, push it through." He handed over the paperwork to his assistant. "I trust you, Emery, I just hope this doesn't come back to bite us on the ass."_

" _Me too."_

"Hello Emery…" David smiled into the video now, his brown eyes cold and devoid of emotion. "You know…you're a conniving bitch, messing with Taker's career the way you have. Imagine what he would do if he saw this, hmm? Actually, I think that's a great idea. Tonight, this will be shown for the world to see during my segment with him. Time to fuck your world up as well as his, sweetheart. You really should've been nicer to me."

Swallowing hard as the footage ended, Emery felt eyes on her from behind and turned, seeing the writing team staring back at her with sympathetic expressions on their faces. "Excuse me." She whispered, ripping the tape out of the VCR and bolted out of the writer's office, needing to speak to Mark immediately.

Mark had found his designated dressing room in shambles. It was a total mess and what was even more interesting, and obnoxious, were all of the T's and X's, his symbol, spray painted everywhere. And then the center point… a very large image of him and Vince, celebrating the announcement of the Corporate Ministry. He had HATED that and knocked his boss out.

Scrawled over the imagine were the words: _Do You Know Who's Pulling Your Strings?_

"Mark, I – oh my god…" Emery blinked at all the damage in the dressing room, her jaw dropped and looked around at all the T and X's, along with the picture, feeling a sick feeling erupt in her stomach. "It was Batista." She quietly said, not having spoken a word to him since he left Sedona a few weeks ago and clutched the tape tighter against her side.

This was NOT a good time to show him what Batista had left her in the writer's room.

He was still staring at the picture, his hands clenched in tight fists at his side. Mark remembered his boss coming to him, informing him that HE was the employee and VINCE was the boss, his say went. He had co-cocked Vince right in the face.

"Batista huh? How would he know about this?" He asked, his voice calm and quiet, never very good signs. "This was way before his time."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

His temper terrified her now as Emery kept her distance, seeing his face slowly turning red. "Because of me." She whispered, unable to meet his eyes when they snapped to her and shakily held out the video. "This is footage of me and Vince in his office from back in 99. I don't know how Batista got it, I wasn't aware Vince recorded his conversations, but…" She trailed off, feeling him snatch the video from her grasp and closed the locker room door, not wanting anyone else to overhear this.

Emery was stupid to stick around while he popped that video in and watched the footage pop up moments later. It was apparently on the video repeatedly, so there was no need to rewind it. She had PUSHED for this stupid line of hers and it hadn't shocked the fans, but that night only. The line, with his help, had fizzled the hell out because it had taken the mystery, the occult away and turned it into a giant joke.

"Any other surprises, Emery?" He asked tensely, not looking at her, afraid he would lose his temper and do something stupid again. "Anything else I need to know about?" His acidic gaze slid to the image: _Do You Know Who's Pulling Your Strings?_ It was her all these years. "Anything else to tell the _employee_?"

Her mind raced, trying to go through 10 years' worth of storylines she had written up for Vince. She cringed at the word employee coming out of his mouth because it was condescending. "There probably is, yes." Emery admitted, keeping her voice and eyes lowered from him, her back pressed against the door. She wanted to tell him the Corporate Ministry had looked good on paper, but once it actually happened and fizzled, she'd realized what a huge mistake it was. It had single-handedly destroyed the Ministry of Darkness – his baby – his brain child. "Mark, there's 10 years' worth of storylines that I've given Vince and he's approved for you. I-I can't even begin to remember all of them…" Blinking the tears away, Emery refused to cry in front of him and trembled a little when his shadow fell over her. "Batista is going to show that tonight during your segment with him, just as he said on the video, which means there's more than one copy."

This was why he now had ultimate say over what these writing dicks tried pulling with his career. Mark had seen some potential superstars get stuck in stupid storylines and they had gone away, shucked under the carpet, and everyone pretended it had never happened. How many careers had Emery helped build and how many had she destroyed because of what looked good on paper?

"Brilliant. Eventually, Vince is going to send you out in front of a camera, you know that, right?" A lightbulb just went off and he smirked, staring down at her.

"W-What? No – NO! Get that smirk off your face right now, Calaway. I am NOT going in front of the camera, ever." Emery was adamant about staying behind the scenes, which is why she'd had a proxy to begin with. "I'm not even the lead script writer anymore." At his wide eyes, she nodded solemnly and fingered the braid over her shoulder nervously. "I gave the position up and told Vince to give it to Cheryl. She deserves it anyway. I'm just another member of the writing team and I'm sticking to the smaller Superstars to write for." It sucked, but it was Emery's way of making up for what she'd done. "So no, I'm not going in front of the camera. I want nothing more to do with this, but Batista is adamant about putting it out there for the entire fucking world to see." She hated David Batista. "Maybe I should talk to him…"

She was going out on camera. It was a bit late for her to be shy since Emery was winding up plastered all over the screens anyway. He bet he could talk Vince into it, knowing Vince would want to both utilize the current drama as well as squash it. And he and David were still hotly feuding… could be fun.

"Sure, you do that, Queenie." He said absently, no longer paying her attention. "Let me know how that works out for you."

* * *

"Mark…"

Vince sighed, knowing he had a lot to make up for all everything that had been spilled out for the world to see. Batista refused to talk, feigning innocence and claimed it wasn't him on the videotape when it clearly was. He didn't want to ruin his feud between Undertaker and Batista since the fans were eating it up. They were gearing up for Backlash – Last Man Standing match.

"The only way you'll get my approval on this is if YOU convince her. And don't use terror tactics either. She either has to do this willingly or no deal."

That sent Mark to Emery's hotel room and when she opened the door, flipping the light on, he sat in the far corner with a glass of some kind of liquor in hand. "What's going on?" She asked tiredly, dropping her bag lightly on the floor and kicked her shoes off.

"You're doing a storyline." He informed her flatly, having no intentions of asking; he was telling.

Vince was an idiot for even thinking he was taking any orders from him or Emery again. That hadn't played out well for any of them. Mark was of the firm opinion, those two were done getting together and making stories.

"With me, and Batista."

"No, I'm not. Vince hasn't called me into a meeting or anything. No, not happening." Emery was standing firm on this and squared her shoulders when he stood up, folding her arms in front of her chest. "No amount of torture, ridicule and terrorizing is going to change my mind either, Mark. Get out, you're wasting your time." She had a raid to do in an hour on WoW and he wasn't going to ruin it. "Find someone else, slap some glasses on them and go crazy."

"Because, darlin', this was decided tonight and you don't call those shots anymore, Emery." He smirked, not bothering to move and had all the time in the world as far as he was concerned. "You're just a lowly little writer now." Cheryl was lead writer and she knew better than to toy with him or his lines from here on out. Mark had no more trust for people with pencils and paper or laptops. "Besides, it's YOU I want, not someone else."

"Still not doing it. I'll leave the company before I'm brought on television for any kind of storyline, especially one involving you and Batista." This man was out of his mind. Mark had truly lost whatever was left of his sanity if he thought for a second she would be bullied or coerced into doing this. "And I don't take orders from you. You're just an employee with the WWE, you're not my fucking boss." Emery's temper was rising fast and his smirk did not help quell it any. "So, take your storyline and shove it up your ass, Deadman! I'm NOT doing it."

Sighing, he got out his cell phone and hit the number. "I quit, effective immediately."

"Wait, what?" Vince blinked at the dial tone.

He hung up. Sighing, Mark finished off his drink and stood up. "You're right, I'm not your fucking boss. I don't know why I bother with you. You don't care about anything but yourself, you've already proven that time and time again. You'd rather just jump ship than face this head-on with me."

What the hell had just happened?

"What the hell did you do that for?! Call him back right now! You're insane!" Emery shouted, not believing he just quit his job because she wouldn't do this line with him. "I'm so sick and tired of you throwing that in my face, Mark! Boohoo, you didn't like the lines I provided and had Vince sign off on! You're not the only one I did lines for, jackass! And now you're forcing me to do this! You're forcing me to go out on national television with you against Batista!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as he stared stoically at her, no emotion or anything in his eyes or features. "I hate you. I hate you so fucking much! You call him back right now and tell him you're not quitting and I'LL DO THE GODDAMN LINE WITH YOU!"

By the time he was done with his phone call, Emery was looking ready to castrate him and Vince seemed like he had had a mild heart attack. The Undertaker put asses in seats, with or without stupid storylines. She could hate him all she wanted, but Batista was the one who had stuck her in the spotlight. Soon enough, it would be Batista dragging her out to put a face with a name. They needed to beat him to the punch.

"Well thank you, darlin'." He said, fully prepared to catch a fist or dodge a knee, not about to lose another ball to her.

"Screw you! Screw you and this whole damn company! And thank you for showing and proving to me just how low of a human being you really are. Now get the fuck out of my room." Emery had nothing more to say to him, not even wanting to look at him and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard, the walls shook.

She was LIVID, not believing Mark just tricked her into doing this storyline and shook her head. Ripping the blouse off along with the skirt, she threw them in the corner along with her undergarments and took a much-needed cold shower to soothe her boiling blood. A half an hour later, she stepped out, wrapped a towel around her body and walked back out, gritting her teeth at the sight of Mark. He was STILL here.

"What did I say? Get the fuck out of my room! I have shit I have to do and you're not wanted here."

"What shit do you have to do, my Queen?" He asked, genuinely curious. She wasn't lead writer anymore and knew she didn't have as heavy a workload as before. "Prospective positions with TNA?" Mark would burn that company to the ground before he allowed her to leave his territory. "Not amusing when someone destroys everything you've worked for, is it?" It kind of sucked, actually. "So, curious, who does Batista have helping him?"

"Keep it up, Calaway…" Emery growled through gnashed teeth, taking a pair of cotton shorts and tank top along with bra and panties out of her bag to change. Fine, if he wanted to stay then he was getting a show. She proceeded to dress in front of him, without showing anything, keeping the towel securely fastened until she had to turn her back to put the bra on. "I don't have a fucking clue who is helping Batista. I wish I knew." Her tone was full of snark as she plopped down on the bed and grabbed her bag, not surprised when he joined her moments later. "And for your information, not that you care, but I have a raid to do on my online game and it starts in about 15 minutes. And I'm not your Queen, not anymore." He'd made that abundantly clear when he left Sedona and didn't contact her for the past 2 weeks.

"You'll always be my Queen and think about it. Someone who obviously has been… keeping tabs on you for a very long time." Mark had no idea; people came and went, he was always there it seemed. Obviously, whoever this was really wanted them to hate each other or just embarrass her. "As much as it wounds my ego, I don't think this is about me." He stood up when there was a knock on the door, going to retrieve the cart of food he had ordered. "Hungry?" He figured she might need some sustenance for her… raid.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you even here? Why do you care? You haven't spoken a word to me in 2 weeks and now suddenly, you want to talk and act like everything is fine? You want to eat together? Forgive me if I'm a little fucking skeptical right now. And yeah, I'll eat something." Logging into her online game, Emery scratched her forehead, her long wet black hair hanging down her back since she hadn't done anything with it. "Don't call me your Queen because that's not who I am to you. All you see when you look at me is a conniving, lying bitch and I've accepted it." Snatching the plate of food from him, she set it down beside her and began to eat, staring directly at the screen waiting for all the guild members to logon.

While she did that, he reclined on her bed, after kicking off his boots and ate his own food, listening to the raid through her speakers. He heard Orton in there, wonder how that little stoner was doing. She had made assumptions again, she was good at that. Mark already knew, eventually, more skeletons were going to come tumbling out of her closet. Things she had 'forgotten' and he had tried giving her space to clear his own head, to hopefully let her get over her fear of him. He began snickering, that had worked out quite well actually, the mouthy bitch.

"Orton, one on your left! Now on your right!"

"Son of a bitch, they're all over the fucking place!" Randy crowed through the speakers, groaning. "Come on, how many more of these cocksuckers are there?!"

Emery was being mouthy with Mark because he'd forced her to do this line with him and Batista. She was pissed at him, her fear of him long gone. All she wanted to do was strangle him and then kiss him, missing him more than she'd ever care to admit. Him being in her bed again and eating with him felt good, not that she'd ever admit that either.

"Okay boys and girls, we're almost at the destination. Stay focused!"

"Gotcha, Boss."

"Right back at ya, Boss." They were co-founders of the guild and therefore, both were bosses.

An hour later, the raid finally ended with everyone congratulating each other and Emery wished them all well. She shut her laptop, finishing her food and set the plate on the tray alongside Mark's. Then she set her laptop on the floor and leaned back against the headboard, looking down at her midnight blue painted fingernails.

"Thanks for the food." She muttered, slowly turning her head to look at Mark the same time he did, their eyes locking.

"You're welcome." He rumbled, hands laced behind his head. Mark had simply lain here, once he was done eating, listening and he did not understand a single bit of it. It sounded like… they were waging battles on the computer. "What's the point of that? Your game." Staying up this late, just to meet other people, on screen… seemed kind of… not his thing. Nerdy, actually, but he would not be saying that out loud.

Not when it seemed like she was calling a truce.

Emery turned to face him further and shrugged, cracking a small smile. "Just something to do. The game itself is war, basically. You assemble a guild, team, or whatever you wanna call it and you destroy everything in your path. It's called World of Warcraft. Randy and I started a guild on there about 2 years ago and he's the one who introduced me to it. We have a raid once a week because of the hectic traveling schedule and whatnot." She sat up a little, looking down at him and hesitantly reached out to touch the side of his face. "You shouldn't judge it unless you give a try. You might like all the chaos and violence it has."

"I didn't judge anything, Miss Assumption, I was asking because it is something you're interested in and I am interested in you. I'm not interested in trying it, however, I got enough going on without trying to add online warring to that menu."

Mark was fixing to go to real war with Batista and whoever his partner in crime turned out to be. There clearly was one, he had determined that today. There was no way Batista was getting his hands on materials from back in 1999 and 2000. The prick hadn't even been in the business then. This was someone who had been around a long time, was familiar with Emery and had access to tech. Catching her hand, Mark pulled her up and over so she straddled his lap.

"I see you're not afraid anymore. Good."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

What was it about him that kept drawing her in? Emery should've been terrified and running screaming from the room after what he did to her. But here she was, walking right back into the lion's den and his eyes were spellbinding her.

"You're going to have to protect me. You know that, right? I'm going to be a distraction to you out there and David is gonna use that to his advantage. I'm not a wrestler…I don't even know what to do when I'm out there in front of all those people." She shivered involuntarily at the thought of being in front of thousands and pressed her forehead to his, their lips practically touching.

"You're a hell cat, Emery." He informed her, kissing the tip of her nose. "But I will teach you a few things, for self-defense." Mark wasn't about to train her to wrestle since she wasn't in this for the long haul, but… enough to get her out of a situation, in case he wasn't there. "Besides, now you'll get the other perspective… can't hurt." Might even help her with writing, feeling all those eyes on her and performing for those people along with what it cost the wrestlers both physically and emotionally. "You sure you don't remember anything else that might come popping up?" He was tired of yo-yoing on how he felt about her and her fingers in his business.

"I'm sure there is, but I can't go through the past 10 years of lines. If there's a specific storyline you have in mind, that you really didn't like, such as the Corporate Ministry, then ask and I'll tell you."

Emery was tired of going back and forth with him too, just wanting to be with him in every way possible. She loved him, it was the only explanation on why she kept going back to him. Love made people do stupid, ridiculous things.

"And I'm only a hellcat because you bring that side of me out. With anyone else, I'm a pussycat." And she wasn't afraid to admit it.

Right off the top of his head, Mark could think of a few storylines that he had not liked at all, but… he didn't want to fight with her anymore, not tonight at least. "I don't think so. I think when push comes to shove, you'll raise some hell."

Scooting down until he was able to lay on his back, Mark pulled her so she sprawled out on top of him. His hands instantly moved to her hair and he frowned. He could already see that long plait of hers being used against her and then smirked, wondering how she'd feel about some new… hair ties.

"Mark…there's other things David probably has he's going to use against us and whoever is helping him." Her head slowly rose from his chest, staring into his eyes and frowned. "So, whatever he has in his collection, I'm only saying this once. I'm sorry." It was all she could do because, something told Emery, there were worse things David and his accomplice found that would surface sooner or later. "I only want to raise hell with you. I missed you."

Shutting her eyes at that confession, Emery glided her nails around his tattoos on his arm, tracing them gently. Before this was all over, he had a feeling they were both going to be saying sorry all over again. He wrapped his arms around her, shrugging her off his arms so he could hold her tightly against him, resting his head against hers.

"I missed you too, Queenie." Mark admitted softly, making her strain to hear it. "We should probably sleep…" Not exactly what he wanted to do with her, but it was late… and she was going to be up bright and early. Emery had some ring time scheduled, not that she knew just yet.

* * *

"Okay, why did you insist I put…contacts…in…" The words slowly came out of her mouth as they walked into the arena and felt her eyes widen at the realization of where they were headed. Her hair was back in a mid-high ponytail, swishing with every step she took and she had black spandex biker shorts on along with a black tank top, tennis shoes on her feet. "Mark, what are we doing here? You said we were going to work out." Is THIS what he meant?! It was 6 AM in the morning, so nobody was in the arena at this hour for the show. "You woke me up at the ass crack of dawn for THIS?" She was going to hurt him, severely hurt him.

"Darlin'," He began, grinning mischievously down at her, wearing workout shorts and a beater, his hair pulled back as well. "Do you really want to learn this shit in a hotel gym? All the boys will be there." That was how it worked. Work out when and wherever they could. "Besides, you need to get familiar with the ring." Mark led the way down, gesturing for her to slide through the ropes. "Come on, get that pert ass in there." He definitely approved of those shorts.

Grumbling under her breath, Emery walked up the steel ring steps and walked along the apron, holding onto the rope and chewed her bottom lip nervously. It wasn't that hard to get in the ring, right? Hesitantly, she stepped through the bottom rope and groaned when her head didn't duck down enough, catching it on the second rope. She lost her balance and fell backwards off the ring apron…right into Mark's arms.

"Nice catch." Emery wasn't the most coordinated and shook her head as he set her down on the floor mats. "This was a mistake. You chose the wrong girl for this, Deadman. I can't even get in the damn ring!"

"Quit your bitching and get in there, Emery."

He snorted, putting her back on the apron and pushed her headfirst through the ropes, watching as her body automatically did the tumbling for her. Mark slipped through the ropes with ease, years of practice showing in his every movement as he shifted from one foot to the other. This was his world, his game. She just needed to learn the controls was all.

"Nobody does anything right the first time, now get up and get your balance."

"What is the point of this? I'm not gonna be INSIDE the ring…am I?"

A look of fear flashed across her face at the possibility, but then it quickly vanished when he shook his head. Then she remembered what he told her the previous night/early morning about learning some moves to defend herself against David. The bastard wasn't playing fair, so why should they?

"Okay…okay…" This was going to hurt; Emery felt him raise her balled fists up in a fighting stance and jumped back when his thrust forward. "You want me to learn to throw a punch…does slapping count?"

"Sure, if it'll get you out of a bad situation. David doesn't seem to like you very much, does he?" Mark mused, though he was throwing punches at her, watching as she ducked and then fell backwards, flat on her backside. "Up, Emery." He bent down and lifted to set her on her feet. "He's not going to play nice, why should – NOT MY BALLS, WOMAN!" He blocked that knee, eyes flashing. "On HIM, not ME!"

"You're trying to punch me! What did you expect me to do?!" Emery fired back, groaning when she landed flat on her back on the mat. "Oww." Seeing his hand in her vision, Emery took it and felt him pull her back up on her feet again. Lack of sleep didn't bother her, but after this impromptu in-ring workout, she would definitely need a nap. "Okay so if I do this…" She thrusted her arm out in a punch, not realizing her wrist had curled a bit and nailed him in the chest. "That's not going to do anything. Punching isn't going to stop that burly asshole. What about a submission move? I'm tiny compared to you, you gotta take that into consideration. I need to do something to him that a tiny person can do when defending myself."

"Well nailing him in the balls would work, but for fuck's sake, you do that to me ever again and I'm tombstoning your ass." He promised, a dark tinge entering his tone and eyed her shrewdly. She was tiny. He loved it; she fit perfectly in his arms and he needed to get his mind out of the gutter immediately. "He's over muscled, he tears easy. You need to learn some submission holds that'll stress them." Armbar immediately came to mind and he eyeballed her, knowing he would be her experiment post for this. "All right, darlin', here's what we're going to do…"

The armbar wasn't that hard of a submission hold and causing Mark some pain made her feel better because of everything he'd put her through. "So like this?"

Emery wrenched back on his arm and heard him grunt, knowing she had it locked in correctly. Mark also showed her a way to bring David down to where she could apply this and let her experiment different ways on him besides nailing him below the belt. When he tapped on her leg, Emery released him and rose to her feet, feeling somewhat invigorated. This would come back to bite Mark in the backside if he thought about terrorizing her again like last time. She was sure that thought had crossed his mind while doing this; he wasn't stupid by any means.

"Okay…I can do that. I wanna try again. So, set me up for the powerbomb and then I'll reverse it into the armbar." Because the Batista bomb was David's patent move and no doubt he would try it on her.

Honestly, if they ever went down the crazy road again, he wouldn't bother with theatrics. Mark would simply punch her out. He wouldn't get his ass handed to him by a woman who stood five foot nothing, weighed as much as his gear did and stayed up all night to play World of Warcraft. Lifting her again, right into position, Mark distinguished she was about to wrench his somewhat pained arm again and nipped her thigh. When she looked at him in shock, he smirked.

"Focus woman."

How did he expect her to focus when he had his mouth on her, teasing her? "Perv."

Emery torqued her body, grabbed his arm and slammed him down on the mat hard, immediately applying the armbar again. They practiced this for an hour straight with Mark caressing and nipping her every time he set her up for the powerbomb. Releasing his arm for the umpteenth time, Emery rolled to where she was on her feet again and grabbed the rope, her back hurting from slamming down on the mat every time she applied the armbar.

"Okay…can we do something else that doesn't involve my back being abused? Didn't you say something about weight training?"

"Sure."

He was still on the mat and grabbed her ankle, pulling until she dropped. Mark caught her and moved her onto the mat, rolling himself as well until he was hovering over her. He had gotten himself worked up, this woman affected him like no other and he didn't understand it half the time. Probably for the best.

"You can start by lifting me." He bent down, brushing his lips along her throat, knowing she'd be lucky to get his arm off of her.

"That's impossible, you weight nearly three times as much as me." Emery murmured softly, enjoying the feeling of him on top of her and his mouth anywhere on her body. Her neck was a sensitive area and turned her into mush against him the fastest. Sweat coated her body from doing the move repeatedly, so he was tasting it along with her skin. "Mark…"

He wasn't playing fair; her body was on fire for a completely different reason other than working it up during their training. As soon as his head lifted from her throat, Emery couldn't hold back and gripped the back of his head, slamming his mouth down on hers. 2 weeks without him, without his kisses and touch had been pure hell and torture. If he wanted to take her right here in the middle of the ring, Emery would surrender with a smile on her face.

"Come on, darlin'." He urged in a soft growl, biting down gently on her lower lip. "You're supposed to be getting me off." Of course, he meant of her, but… word play was amusing. When her hand wiggled between their bodies and found its way to the front of his shorts, he let out a hiss. "Not fair, Emery."

"That's fucking disgusting."

Groaning at the sound of Batista's voice, Emery immediately pushed Mark off of her, with his allowance, and rose to her feet in the ring, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Why is that, Bitchtista?" She watched his brown eyes narrow and smirked, no humor in her face or icy eyes. "Is it because it's not you in here with me? I bet it is. Sorry to disappoint you, _Davey_ , but you're really not my type. I prefer a man, not a boy in a man's body throwing a hissy fit and making other people's lives miserable. Oh poor little Davey didn't get what he wanted at WrestleMania, so he's gonna dredge up the past and using it as leverage. Just how pathetic are you? You're a scumbag, a spineless, piece of shit and I can't wait for Mark to tear you apart! And whoever is helping you, I will find out and when I do, I'm gonna rip THEM apart limb from limb and make them EAT those videotapes." He had pissed her off, her temper was up and if he tried getting into this ring, she would show him what Mark had taught her.

David began laughing hysterically, pointing at her in disbelief and amusement. "Jealous? Of him being with… with YOU?" He actually was crying, wiping away tears. "Why the hell would I want some dorky, scrawny little bitch like you?" Lord, the woman was crazy. "Just because the Deadman wants to dip his dick in your dork snatch doesn't mean the rest of us do." He snorted, watching as Mark got to his feet. He did not miss the furious look on the other man's face. "Man, you really got her ego jumped, thinking she's something other than a little pencil pushing, video gaming nerd."

He took measure of the distance and how much leverage he had for an instant jump.

"You fuck-" David groaned when he was smashed to the ground.

Looking over the ropes, Emery smirked as Mark got to his feet while David currently saw stars. "Wow Davey, you look good in that position. Flat on your fucking back, dick munch!" She blew him a kiss, grinning and stepped through the ropes to stand on the apron before jumping down. "And I'm proud to be a pencil pushing, video gaming nerd. At least I have morals unlike your dumbass." She followed Mark up the ramp with her arm around his waist and stopped as soon as they were behind the curtain. "It's only 8 AM, what the hell is he doing here? And are you okay?"

"I need a massage." Mark grunted, wincing as he stretched. She had seen him in pain and didn't have to hide it from her. David would never see him weak though. "Probably same thing we're doing – training. He never took well to being told off about his lack of caring for the actual sport. He thinks if he shows up and puts on a show, people will think otherwise. Or… he's stalking you. You did promise him a win at WrestleMania and I failed to deliver." He grinned viciously and would've done it all over again if the clock reversed.

Emery wouldn't mind giving him a massage and a tongue bath, that kiss she'd given him still burning on her lips. "He's pissed at me and that's fine. Yet he claims he's not jealous of you and me. He totally contradicted himself if he is stalking me." That didn't settle well with her as they continued down the hallway, looking over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure David wasn't following for retaliation. "Mark, what if he is stalking me and…tries something? Does he even know I'm gonna be part of the storyline going forward?" She was not surprised when he shook his head. "Then I'm bunking with you from now on until this ordeal is over. I'm not gonna be his personal punching bag. You're gonna have to deal with me because I'm not leaving your side." She was not a wrestler or a fighter, not unless she had to be.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Honestly, Mark didn't mind her bunking with him. It saved him the trouble of having to ask her to basically move in with him on the road, so to speak. He also didn't think, sexually, Emery was David's type. The man preferred tall, leggy women, or women with some busty… areas. Emery was neither of those things, at least not when she wore pants. He knew how delectable those legs were.

"I think he's pissed at you, and me." He wrapped his arm around her, guiding her through the mostly empty building. "He was promised something and didn't get it, so he's blaming us both. And… I still think he's not working alone."

"I know he's not. There's no way that idiot could ever navigate his way around a computer let alone make the videotapes. That last one with me and Vince…not all of the conversation was in there because we also discussed lines for other wrestlers. So this is someone who is tech savvy, someone who knows their way around a computer and can manipulate the footage to their liking."

Emery started going down the list of people she knew, trying to weed them out and instantly canceled Cheryl. She was smart, but they were friends and she would never betray her that way. Emery hoped anyway.

"I meant what I said out there. When we find out who is helping him, they're gonna wish they'd never met either of us." Her sky blues flashed angrily, having a sinking feeling the worst was yet to come. "We need a way to make his accomplice reveal themselves."

"That's just it darlin', Batista feels more like a puppet." He would know all about that, both from playing puppet and puppet master. "He's pissed and out for blood, sure, but… someone is supplying him with information. These tapes, I don't think Davey boy would have gone out of his way to do all that. I think someone is pulling his strings. Someone who really dislikes you."

Maybe him too, but this seemed… about her. Someone who wanted him to be pissed at her, who had egged them to antagonizing each other. He remembered how all the pranks had stopped when she left the road, only to start again now that she was back.

"Who did you piss off, Emery?"

"I don't…know…"

Emery stopped walking, halting Mark as well and felt her eyes slowly narrow, her mind going a mile a minute. There was only one person that came to mind – one person who had worked closely with her for the past several years…until his recent demotion. Was Matthew really capable of doing this? He'd basically been her bitch as her proxy, dealing with the wrestlers' attitudes and abuse. Shoved into the trunk of a car and that car being towed away with him inside, for example.

"Oh my god…" Her sky blues snapped up to meet Mark's, not believing she didn't catch onto this sooner. Matthew also had a degree in computer technology, remembering him taking courses for it throughout his time being her proxy. "I need to talk to Randy. And Paul. Yeah, I need to talk to them." She began walking past him, her mind racing again along with her heart.

If Matthew was doing all of this for revenge…she was screwed in more ways than one.

Apparently, Emery had a revelation and he was curious, but… Mark stood there and watched her go. She'd tell him when she was ready. Slowly, he turned around and stared back the way they had come. Or maybe he'd just go out there and have a little chat with Batista himself.

* * *

"Randy is still off the road, Em." Paul said with a yawn, when she arrived at his hotel room, wondering why she was up and dressed at this hour. "What's your damage, sweets?" Only 10… he liked his late mornings.

"I know, he's on speaker phone and already cursed me out for waking him up. This is important though."

She stepped inside his room, holding her cell phone and walked over to sit down on the bed, her hair still wet hanging down her back from a shower. Mark didn't question her while they showered together to wash the grime and sweat off their bodies. She had given him a massage afterwards, putting him to sleep and slipped out of the room to come here.

"We have a problem. A serious problem and I need to talk to both of you because I trust you the most." Mark – she still had trouble completely trusting him after what happened, but it was building back up again. "I think I know who's been fucking with me…and who got me suspended with those strippers and clown."

"Who is it and how did you find out, Em?"

Paul's eyes were wide, suddenly awake. "Yeah, who?"

"Matthew. I think he's been pulling the strings. He's the only one I can think of who has motive to make my life hell…and he has a background in computer technology. There were parts of the video that were cut out and melded together. That conversation between me and Vince lasted well over an hour and the tape was only a few minutes long, talking about the Corporate Ministry angle. Only that angle, nobody else's. With his background and knowledge, I don't doubt he could easily navigate and cut that footage up to his liking. And if that's the case, he's working with Batista, which is how Batista is getting his hands on this shit."

"What the…"

"FUCK?!"

"Okay, okay…" Randy sighed, kind of glad he wasn't there in person because he might've beaten Matthew's ass himself. Yes, he was doing weed. No, it wasn't exactly a hardcore drug, but still illegal and that little bastard had gotten him suspended. "Why would Matthew be doing all this though? What's he got to gain? He had your spot and totally fucked it up."

"That… is a good point." Paul didn't doubt Emery, at all, but he couldn't understand why Matthew would bother. "What'd you do to him that pissed him off? Or what does he think you did?"

"Well, he was my proxy for a couple years and…took a lot of shit from the wrestlers. I mean A LOT." Emery lowered her eyes from Paul, unable to meet his gaze at the moment and rubbed the back of her neck. "It was his job, yes, but…Calaway shoved him in the trunk of a car and that car got towed away with him STILL in the trunk. You don't think that would piss him off and make him vengeful? Then there's the whole being choked out, slammed against walls and being booted in the ass so many times, I bet he doesn't even have an ass anymore. Do I know if it's him 100%? No, but he's suspect #1. Not to mention, after I came back from suspension, he was DEMOTED to being a personal assistant for the same wrestlers who abused and ridiculed him while he was my proxy."

Well, that was awkward. Paul had never really given Matthew much thought. Sure, the guy had been her proxy, but… that was about the extent of brain space Paul had devoted to Matt. He realized now… the dude had suffered quite a bit and money only went so far. "I guess we all kind of treated him shitty…"

"Not yet," Randy growled, his voice pure ice. "I'm going to punt his fucking head off his shoulders."

Paul groaned, staring helplessly at Emery. "So what next?"

"Punt. His. Skull. In."

Now, this is where Emery became nervous, especially hearing the pure ice in Randy's voice and she stood up from the bed, pacing. "I have to tell you guys something…and it CANNOT leave this room. Randy, I know you're pissed and we're going to get revenge on him, but I need you to calm down, okay? Please?"

Only because it was Emery and he thought of her as a little sister did he take several deep breaths, feeling ice running through his veins. "What's going on now, Emery?" Randy demanded gruffly, lighting up a cigarette and tossed his PlayStation controller away so he didn't break it. He was pissed.

"Um…" Her cheeks turned a deep crimson and she could NOT look at Paul when the next set of words came out of her mouth. "I'm being put on television…because of the videotapes. And it's gonna be with the Undertaker."

"WHAT…"

"THE FUCK?!"

"No Emery, that isn't happening!" Now Randy was moving to his laptop, pulling up his browser. "I'm fucking booking a flight to you. You are NOT going out there, you hear me?" Because she wasn't a trained wrestler. She had no business in that ring. "Batista will fucking destroy you!"

"Who had this brilliant idea?" Paul demanded, staring at her like she had lost her mind, which in his opinion, she had. "You aren't a wrestler, so why would you even agree to that?"

"It was Mark's idea. Look, my face is all over the place now that those videotapes have been exposed. There's nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. It was either Mark brings me on-screen or Batista would've found a way to do it, and you both know I'm right. Vince would've capitalized on this instantly because of the ratings." Emery refused to tell them how Mark had convinced her to do this, feeling Paul wrap his arms around her shoulders to sit her down on the bed. She was trembling at the thought of having to do this, but…like Mark said, she had to face this head-on with him. "I'm not coming to you, Randy." Mark would just hunt her down and force her back on the road to do this anyway. "Mark is training me…giving me some moves to use against Batista and he's also making me weight train to build my muscle mass up." So she could perform moves on the bulky son of a bitch.

"Emery, pull your head out of Mark's ass and listen: I said I was coming to you." He had already booked a flight and he had every intention of beating the Deadman down, pulling her on-screen. What a crock! "How do you know he's not fucking with you?"

"He was… pretty upset."

"Upset isn't the word." Randy was throwing belongings in his bag. "He was livid; he was going to kill you."

"I'm so confused."

"Randy no, you can't do this! You're on suspension and if the company catches you anywhere near the hotels, your ass is fired!" Emery cried out, shaking her head frantically and felt tears burn her eyes. "I'm doing this…I don't need your permission or anyone else's." Her voice had dropped from hysterical to low and calm. "If you want to risk your career, that's fine, but I'm doing this. And you will not touch Mark, do you hear me? It may not seem like it, but he knows what he's doing and…I owe him. I owe him a lot for everything I did to him. For ruining the Ministry and…possibly even his marriage." The Deadman didn't know about THAT one yet either. "I just wanted to tell my two best friends that I trust. I'm sorry if I upset you, but…I'm getting off here now and going back to my room."

"Then trust us when we tell you that this is the dumbest thing ever!" Randy practically screamed into his cell, wishing she was right there in front of them so he could shake some sense into the woman. "Wait… ruin his marriage?"

"Emery… what did you do?" Paul asked quietly, blocking the door before she could leave and wondered just what exactly Mark knew about her and her lines. What she had told him. "Emery?"

Tears flowed from her eyes as Emery dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands. "I-I didn't mean for it to happen! I just…I came up with the stalking angle with DDP back when the Invasion was going on, after WCW went out of business. Mark was the American Badass at the time and I – I heard through the grapevine he was bringing his wife on the road for a while to travel with him. I went to Vince and told him about this idea about bringing the Undertaker's wife on television to make it more realistic. To give the fans something they'd never seen from his character. Vince jumped on it and forced Mark into the storyline. His wife was all for it because she wanted her 15 seconds of fame." Emery snorted, remembering meeting Sara briefly in catering one night at Raw and that woman's attitude grated on her nerves. "Then when they wrote her off Raw, after she beat DDP with Mark's help in a match, she was brought back a year later during his feud with Brock Lesnar in 2002. And she was pregnant at the time with one of their daughters. So, I brought her back into the fold, with Vince's blessing…and I know that's what lead to their ultimate downfall." Mark had recently gotten divorced from Sara due to personal reasons that were disclosed. "And no, he doesn't know about any of this yet. I'm sure he's about to though if David and Matthew have those conversations I had with Vince about the lines recorded."

"Holy fuck…"

"Oh my god, Emery…" Randy whispered, shaking his head. "You had Vince force him into letting that happen?" Mark had been notoriously private about his home life, his wife and his children. "Why would you do that? Why would… his private life was his, why?"

"Never mind that… does he know about you being involved in that?"

Because if he didn't, and he found out through another of those videos, Mark would kill her outright. The man had been blindly in love with Sara, until those lines, and then something had changed. When she shook her head, he sank down on his bed, groaning.

"You need to either tell him or run far-far-far away."

"I already told him there were other things throughout the 10 years I've been here that will pop up. He asked me if there was anything that sprung to mind, but I lied to him. There's no way I'm telling him I'm responsible for his marriage to Sara ending. And I don't know if he knows this or not, but…she was cheating on him…with DDP." Emery saw Paul's jaw drop to the floor and she was pretty sure she could FEEL Randy's do the same thing through the phone. "I caught them…in an empty dressing room. I don't know if he knows about that happening either."

"Fuck me…"

"You gotta tell him, Emery. You got to come clean about everything – EVERYTHING – you did to him while you were the lead script writer." Randy wanted to tell her to leave the WWE altogether. It would be healthier for her than being under the Undertaker's thumb in a storyline.

"Do you understand now why I have to do this with him?" In a way, this was her penance and punishment for all the storylines she'd forced Mark to do with Vince's blessing.

"Emery, you're not listening, you're LYING to him. AGAIN." Randy wondered if his best friend was suicidal, or stupid, maybe a little bit of both. "It doesn't matter about Sara cheating; he probably knows, that might even be why he divorced her. What DOES matter is your involvement and the fact that you keep on lying… god, please stop… just tell him the damn truth."

"If you don't, and you're in a line with him… Em, he's crazy, please… We'll be with you when you do."

"I know…" Emery whispered, not having her glasses on at the moment because the contacts were still in. She figured leaving them in for the day wouldn't cause any harm. "You're right…I have to tell him. I have to tell him everything. The Inferno match, the Casket match fiasco, this…" All of it had to come out before David could use it against her. "Randy, I have to go. I'll call you later…if I survive this." Hanging up with him abruptly, Emery hugged Paul tightly around the neck and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer. "Let me leave and do this." It had to be done right now. "Don't do anything to Matthew either. Let me handle it."

"Are you sure about this?" Paul was honestly worried about her, knowing Randy was probably going out of his mind with worry as well. "We can be there…"

"No, this is something I need to do on my own. I'll be okay." She hoped and kissed his cheek. "I'll call you later." Then she walked out of the room and headed back to her own, every step feeling heavier than the next the closer she came to the door.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Once she arrived, Emery stopped at the sight of Mark sitting up in bed with a stern look on his face. "I know I left without telling you, but…I had to go talk to Paul alone about this situation. Him and Randy, actually. And I need to talk to you. This can't wait, so if you're going to yell at me for leaving without letting you know what was going on, hold it in. You're gonna be screaming at me for a different reason in a few minutes…"

Sighing, Mark leaned back against the headboard, folding his hands behind his head as he took her in. She had been crying. Her eyes were red and watery, her face was splotchy… he had a feeling he was about to be very upset with her.

"Fine, Emery." He said quietly, wishing the feeling of dread in his gut would go away. "Let's hear it." A very large part of him strongly wished he didn't have to hear anything, honestly. "Blow your nose first." Maybe a strong drink was in order. She was sniffling.

Walking into the bathroom, Emery took several deep breaths and blew her nose as told, trying to keep the tears at bay. This was her fault – all of it, even if she was doing her job. There were lines that shouldn't have been crossed and she did…on a whole new level. It was time to come clean about all of it, every single thing. And if she died today, at least she would pass on with a guilt-free conscience. Being murdered by the man she was in love with…it could be worse. She exited the bathroom a few minutes later with tissue in hand and couldn't look at him, slowly settling down on the bed on the edge.

"You asked me if anything else regarding your storylines came to mind…and I told you no. I lied to you about that. There were a few that popped in my head, but one stands out the most. And I know David and his accomplice will use it against me, so I'm coming clean about everything I did to your character…to you." Another deep breath was taken in. "When you asked me that, the first storyline that popped in my head was…the one with your ex-wife, Sara. The stalking angle with Diamond Dallas Page…was my idea."

From there, she told him everything she'd told Paul and Randy, keeping her voice low and calm, but the tears flowed silently down her cheeks. She also included catching Sara and DDP in the act at the arena during the angle, not hiding anything from Mark anymore. Mark had been right, a drink was definitely needed and he rolled right out of bed, heading for the dry bar, eyeballing the contents. All tiny ass shot sized bottles. He began opening and shooting them, knowing if he looked at her right now, he'd strangle her.

"Why bother mentioning Sara cheating?" Mark wondered what the purpose of that was. "I knew, Emery." Of course he had known, he was the Undertaker. "Do you think it lessens your crimes?" He remembered that fight with Vince, how he had pleaded, threatened… begged his boss not to do that line. It was stupid and he wasn't one to involve his personal life like that. "I asked you, a couple times, if there was anything else… and yet, you keep lying to me." His voice had dropped to a harsh whisper.

Closing her eyes, Emery shook her head at his first question. Of course it didn't lessen her crimes toward him. "That's why I told you I was only saying sorry once. And you accepted it. But after talking to Randy and Paul, they convinced me it was better the truth comes from me, out of my mouth, then any more of those damn videos. And Sara's infidelity, I mentioned it because I didn't know if you knew or not. When I found them together, I immediately regretted that storyline, but by then, it was too late to cancel it. It was halfway through the storyline, there was no way Vince would cancel it on a whim." Clenching her hands together, Emery could feel his anger and didn't dare look up at him, taking a deep breath. "It was also my idea to bring her back on television in 2002 when you were going against Brock Lesnar for the championship…when she was pregnant. Which I didn't know about until the segment was filmed. Vince didn't tell me about that or I never would've given him the idea in the first place. The Tracy angle with you being accused of cheating on Sara…that was also my idea. Lesnar didn't want to do it, but Paul Heyman and Vince really liked it, so they pushed it through. I – I don't know if it lead to your divorce from her, but…I know it couldn't have helped matters either."

Her stupid little comment about saying sorry once and him accepting it was probably not a very good remark on her end. "You manipulative little bitch!" He roared, whirling to glare at her, noting she was looking everywhere except at him. "You said you were sorry and I accepted it, do you think that is a pass!? That it magically makes it so I forgive you for continuously lying to me, Emery?! You also told me you didn't remember everything, so this all tells me you're nothing but a manipulative liar!" All the rest didn't really matter, he had connected the dots very quickly. "WHY do you keep LYING?"

"I'm NOT lying to you! This is the truth! The cold, hard truth! All of it, laid out for you! I didn't tell you right away because, honestly, you scared the hell out of me the last time we were in Sedona! I'm not manipulative and I'm not a bitch! I did my fucking JOB! I did what I was hired to do and that was create storylines for the company!" Emery shouted, defending herself because, when it came down to it, it was her job. "I did cross lines, yes I fucking did. And I'm paying for it now. But THE BOSS is the one who pushed all of these ideas, NOT ME! All I did was come up with them, Calaway! I'm not solely responsible for everything that happened to you – VINCE IS! Blame him! I just gave him the reigns and he took them and did what the fuck he wanted like he always does! Do you think Steve Austin appreciated the fact I came up with the idea to turn him heel at WrestleMania 17? Or the Rock Concert back in 2004 where he was heel?" There'd been a short period where she'd worked for both Raw and Smackdown! because the brand split had everyone stressed out in the writing team, so Vince had to take time to create Raw's own writing team. "Or how about GTV? Or even your match against Kane at Unforgiven 1998? You remember that, right? The ring surrounded by fire, the Inferno match, you absolutely hated and despised, was MY idea too! I'm standing here, telling you the truth, like you wanted and you STILL call me a liar? FUCK YOU! You can take this line and everything else and shove it up your ass along with your goddamn career! I am DONE! Do this line without me, I really don't care if you and Batista kill each other at this point! And yeah, the only thing I can say after all of this is I'm sorry. There's nothing more I can do or say because WHAT'S DONE IS DONE! You can't change the past and neither can I! Just like I can't change the fact that I-" Emery stopped herself, refusing to admit what she was about to because it wouldn't do any good. "Go ahead and quit because you manipulated me into this. By threatening Vince to quit your job, you manipulated me ten times the amount of times you were manipulated by my storylines. And you can't deny that. And just so you know, Matthew is the one behind the videotapes, I'm 99% of it. You probably don't care about that though considering he's targeting me, not you."

"Your problem, Emery," He said slowly, softly, never a very good sign. "Is that you stand here defending yourself against everything you imagine I'm pissed off about, when it comes down simply to this: I ASKED you and you knew and you still lied. You even apologized in advance, which should have probably been a tell." Mark shook his head, swiping all the empty shot bottles off the counter, more pissed than buzzed. "Even at the end of your little 'I'm just doing my job' shit, you're still manipulative, telling me I've done worse than your lines. Well, congrats, you've got me beat."

He would never trust a woman ever again. Mark had just had his heart broken for the last time and that was what pissed him off. He cared, loved, this woman and all she did was lie out of fear.

"So that's what you're pissed about? The fact I didn't tell you right away what I did remember, what did pop into my head? Are you serious?" He was, he was actually livid with her over the fact she had taken some time to sort through all of her own emotions and thoughts before coming clean to him. "You know, instead of being pissed at me, you should be a little more lenient, considering I did come to you and told you this face to face instead of finding out on one of those damn videos from Batista and Matthew. Did it ever occur to you that I've been going through one hell of a time lately, Mark? After Sedona's blowout, here we are again. I had to mull over everything after I was outed and yeah, when you asked me if I remembered, I did lie to you because I wasn't ready to come clean about everything yet. I have that fucking right to hesitate after you PUT A FUCKING SLEEPER HOLD ON ME AND KIDNAPPED ME FROM MY PARENTS HOUSE AFTER DRUGGING THEM!" This is exactly what Batista and Matthew wanted, for them to be at each other's throats. There was no need to use videos when they were doing it to themselves! "I can't do this anymore. I can't…I can't keep apologizing and paying for what I did, for doing a job I was hired to do."

Emery grabbed her bag and began packing her things away, shaking her head repeatedly, knowing what she had to do. She was leaving the company and he would never see her again. Sedona would be a memory, she was disappearing off the face of the earth after this. Opening her mouth was the worst mistake she could've made because, at the end of the day, it didn't make a damn difference.

"You wouldn't have to keep apologizing if you'd just tell the truth when you're told and quit falling back on 'it's my job'." He mockingly whined at her. "Grow a fucking spine and admit you were wrong. You played GOD Emery, you and Vince, and I should've set your fucking house on fire when I was considering it because anything would better than this." Mark could deal with her fear of him; he deserved it and had apologized for it, tempted to do it all over again. "I love you, but that is definitely not enough Emery, not ever."

She froze when those words came out of his mouth, her eyes snapping open while she stared down at her bag and could feel her heart shattering in her chest for a completely different reason. He loved her? "I've already apologized to you and admitted I was wrong. I told you I was wrong about WrestleMania and I was wrong for lying to you about my position in the company. It's not enough for you though. It's never going to be enough, just like you said. No matter what I say or do – no matter if I stand here and tell you I've fallen in love with you, it's not gonna be enough and I'm done trying. I'm done trying to make up for what I did. I'm just done." Zipping her bag up, shaking like a leaf, Emery couldn't look at him as she tossed the bag over her shoulder along with her laptop, knowing she could bunk with Paul tonight and book the first flight to Sedona.

Her first phone call would be to Vince to put her resignation in.

"Try to avoid lying to the next man you love." He informed her, grabbing his own belongings.

Never mix business with pleasure because of situations right here. They were the shining example of that rule, not the exception. Mark didn't bother vowing to not put hands on his next woman because, he seriously doubted there would be a next. Fuck, sure, but one nights and never a relationship. He was done.

"There won't be another one."

Emery's world was shattered to pieces and there was no fixing it or coming back from this. She walked out, shutting the door quietly behind her and went to Paul's room, immediately breaking down as soon as he answered the door. It was over.

Her and Mark were over completely.

* * *

After resigning from the company, despite Paul begging her not to, Emery knew she did the right thing. Vince tried convincing her not to leave, but all she told him was she made a mistake by coming to WWE and didn't want the burden anymore. When he tried threatening to sue her, because of the storyline, Emery had one thing to say to him.

"Do it then. I don't care." And hung up on him, nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels with World of Warcraft in front of her. That's what she was meant to do – be alone in seclusion with her games and comic books.

Randy had a key. He let himself right in and regretted it at the stench of body odor and Jack Daniels. Emery was in a funk. She wouldn't return calls anymore, she ignored him on WoW, no emails, nothing. And since he was still suspended… he came to check up on his best friend. Making sure she was still alive would also help alleviate Cheryl's anxiety.

"You need a shower." He informed her, hiding a smile when she jumped and then looked around. "Uh… Em?"

"What the hell are you doing here, Orton?" Emery muttered, not moving an inch from her bed, junk food and garbage galore strewn all over the place along with pieces of the comic books Mark had gotten her. They were ripped to shreds just like her heart. "Please go away and leave me alone."

She didn't want to talk to anyone or do anything except play WoW and drown her sorrows in alcohol and junk food, her pillows stained with heartbroken tears. It'd been a week since she left WWE and Vince hadn't gone through with suing her, figuring it wasn't worth it. Emery was depressed, obviously, because there was crap everywhere and Randy really hoped she was at least pretending to do something healthy.

"So… your game plan is to kill your liver and get diabetes at the same time?" He asked, watching her eat a Twinkie and then wash it down with her whiskey. "Emery…" Randy walked around until he was sitting on the edge of her bed, cursing and reached under him. He had sat on a slice of pizza. "This isn't you."

"Yes it is." She said through a mouthful of Twinkie, tossing the wrapper on the floor along with dozens of others and held up the half eaten sponge of heaven. "This is my life now. This is my love. Twinkies. They don't hurt you. They don't call you a liar and break your heart. I'll die happily from drinking myself to death along with being a diabetic. Whichever comes first." Emery finished the Twinkie and leaned back against the headboard, her t-shirt she had on had stains all over it from dropping various amounts of junk food on it. "I'm nothing but a stupid, pencil pushing geek who loves video games and comic books. I don't deserve love. I deserve to be alone and I'm fine with it as long as I have whiskey and Twinkies."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

All Randy could do was stare at her, his blue eyes wide. He was pretty sure she had just shoved another Twinkie in her mouth when he blinked because she was now licking creme off her fingers. "You're getting a shower." She reeked to high heaven and Randy dragged her off the bed. "And I'll get that on a t-shirt for you. Whiskey and Twinkies." He was guessing those words were not hers, but something someone had said to her.

"No! I don't want a damn shower!" Emery growled, trying to fight him off, but her head was spinning from all the whiskey she'd ingested. She had stains in her armpits of the t-shirt along with the neckline. She groaned, feeling him peel the t-shirt off her and shoved her into the already running shower. "Stop it, Randy!" She shouted, trying to get out and gasped when the water hit her, washing all over her.

She began crying all over again, curling up in a ball at the bottom of the shower, squeezing her eyes shut. The glasses were still on and she didn't care, just wanting to be left alone. Broken…Emery was broken and there was no fixing her, no matter how many showers Randy forced her to take. He forced her to take that one and, when she behaved like a little rag doll, he scrubbed her hair for her, removing bits of food and wondered if he'd be able to pick out the tangles. This was a lot of hair and about a week's worth of crap in it… she would have dreads soon enough. Then, Randy scrubbed her body, stopping at panties and bra and took a deep breath.

"So help me god, Emery, you will snap out of it long enough to wash your swamp crotch and stank ass or I'll do it for you." Being the best friend was hard.

Scowling darkly, she snatched the loofah sponge from him and tore her bra and panties off, throwing them right in his face before washing herself, yanking the curtain closed. He was her best friend, one of them, so her nakedness wouldn't mean a damn to him anyway. It wasn't a huge shock when she stepped out of a few minutes later and snatched the towel from him, shaking her head.

"You're an asshole." She muttered, storming past him into her room and sat on the bed full of crap, only for Randy to pick her up and shove her down the hallway toward the living room. "Why can't you leave me the hell alone, Orton?! I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP!"

"Yeah I know." Randy muttered, pushing her down onto the couch and began collecting all the pint bottles of Jack Daniels. "You want me to leave you alone so you can wallow in your body odor, Twinkies and whiskey. Fuck Em… what the hell?" He disappeared into the kitchen long enough to get a trash bag, shoving garbage into it. "When was the last time you slept?" He asked softly, crouching down before her, reaching out to push hair back from her face. "Properly?"

"Today, 12 hours." It was now 11 PM at night and he'd arrived about a half an hour ago. "Just go, Randy. Please."

Granted, it was an alcohol-induced sleep, but sleep nonetheless. Emery buried her face in her hands, unable to meet her friend's worried mystic blues. She didn't want people worrying about her. Paul had probably called Randy to tell him what happened since she hadn't. Her phone was currently smashed into tiny pieces, which is why nobody had been able to contact her. She just didn't care anymore and pulled away when Randy took her hand, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. Now she was sobbing, clutching her chest tightly through the towel and began rocking back and forth repeatedly.

"It hurts…it hurts so badly…I just need it to stop…" Jack Daniels was the only thing that numbed the pain in her heart. "Please make it stop…"

"I wish I could, Emery." Randy murmured softly, his eyes filled with sorrow as he moved up onto the couch beside her. "I would take all of this away, if I could, but I can't." It wouldn't stop, not anytime soon, the only thing she could do was wait it out because that was how broken hearts worked. "I'm here for you though."

It was probably a small condolence. He reached out, pulling her onto his lap so she was sitting sideways, wrapping his arms around her. This time, she didn't push him away, instead only cried harder. Randy tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, blinking back his own tears.

For the next 3 days, Randy stayed with Emery and she didn't say much, just played video games and started getting back into her funk again. He had cleaned her house from top to bottom, especially her bedroom, airing it out since it smelled. No matter what he did, Emery couldn't bring herself to show gratitude, just kept her nose stuck in the television with a controller in her hand. WoW didn't appeal to her at the moment. Blowing shit up in a game did, though.

By the third day, Randy had gotten tired of her silence and just left, telling her to call him when she was ready to join the land of the living again. Emery didn't care, not even saying goodbye to him and had a bottle of Jack Daniels beside her. She'd stopped by a liquor store and bought their entire stock out before holing herself up in the house. Being plastered was the only way Emery got any sleep and her dreams were nothing more than nightmares about the man who shattered her to pieces.

* * *

Slowly prying her eyes open, Emery groaned as she brought her hand up to her forehead and covered her eyes, the light streaming through the window not doing anything for her MASSIVE hangover. Her head was pounding in her ears as she slowly rolled over and coughed, her mouth incredibly dry. Cotton mouth from having a bender. When her eyes managed to open fully without her head thundering, Emery reached for her glasses on the nightstand nearby and slid them on, the room coming into focus. A room that WASN'T hers.

"What the fuck?" She whispered, not trusting to use her actual voice at the moment and looked down, frowning at the clothes she had on. Black pants and a long-sleeved red blouse. Her hair was even braided… "What's going on?" Stumbling to her feet, Emery held onto the wall and squeezed her eyes shut, her head hurt badly.

"You're in an alcohol-induced coma." David deadpanned, walking out of the adjacent bathroom, buttoning the sleeves of his dress shirt.

He had brought in women to do the changing of attire and washed her skanky backside up. David was many things, but not a rapist. He had also paid hairdressers a great deal of money to deal with that fucking mop she had going on. David had been tempted to cut it, but… its length did have some purpose. As a reign, for example. Snorting, he walked over and guided her not so nicely back to the couch. Water and aspirin were on her menu and god help her, if she got froggy, because one good tap to her head would probably screw her up good.

"Lay still."

"B-Batista?" Emery could barely move, holding her head as she lay back on the couch in a half lay – half-sitting position, tears stinging her eyes. "W-What's going on?" The last time she was awake, she'd been in her house in Sedona and now…now she was with Batista. "I-I quit the company…oh fuck my head…" When he handed over the aspirin and water, she immediately took it the pills, hoping they helped with her pounding head. Frowning, she managed to look up at him through hazy vision and realized this was a locker room after several minutes, frowning. "W-Why am I here?"

Did he kidnap her from Sedona?!

Emery knew she was in trouble, but her head hurt too badly as she dropped the empty glass to the floor and collapsed back on the couch again.

"Batista, 5 minutes!"

Feeling her upper arm snatched from the couch, Emery had no choice except to follow him out the door and tried to get focused, but couldn't.

With as much as she had drunk, on top of borrowing one of Mark's old tricks of utilizing ether, he expected that pounding, crippling headache to continue on for a while, even with the aspirin. She wouldn't be able to help herself; hell, she might even vomit once that deafening audience and the bright lights hit her. David made a mental note to rub her face in any puke she may spew.

"Hope you don't suffer from stage fright, sweetheart, because it's showtime."

"W-What?!"

Before Emery knew what was happening, Batista's blaring music flowed through the speakers. She was shoved through the curtain, landing on her knees on the top of the stage. Fear…pure fear filled her icy blues as she looked around the arena, so many eyes staring back at her and felt her stomach twist violently.

"O-Oh god…"

The lights killed her, making her head pound and David wrapped her braid around his hand, pulling her like a dog down to the ring. She cried out weakly, feeling her body roll into the ring after he tossed her inside and Emery immediately scooted away from him, backtracking on her hands and feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks while she looked up at him, shaking her head repeatedly and felt her adrenaline kick up a notch. When he grabbed her braid again, Emery screamed and was sat on her knees beside him, his feet pressing against her back calves preventing her from rising to her feet.

"Well look what I found…" David chuckled wickedly into the microphone, keeping her grounded right where he wanted her and slid his tongue across his bottom lip. "She is QUITE the vision, isn't she? Wanna say hi, Emery?" He stared down at Emery, clicking his tongue wickedly. She looked ready to throw up. "Emery is shy," He explained to the audience. "Emery is the kind of girl who likes to sit behind a computer and write out soap operas."

At the words 'soap operas' a montage of the videos he had released played, followed by a special clip of her pushing the Sara line.

David figured that one would really take the cake, having no idea she had already confessed everything about it to Mark.

What the hell was Batista doing? Mark, in the process of dressing for the evening, halted and stared at his monitor. He had spent his week at home, away from all of this, and thinking about what had gone down between him and Emery. Anger never made for good conversations.

Sweat poured from her forehead mixing with tears as David forced her to watch the montage, all the destruction and damage she'd caused Mark flashing before her eyes. The screen made her eyes feel like they were on fire and she had to squeeze them shut, only for Batista to scream at her through the microphone to open them. Somehow, she managed to force the chunks not to rise in her throat and spew them all over the mat and him. The adrenaline was working overtime throughout her body, her heart pumping faster and harder than it ever had before, even during her two blowouts with Mark.

Once the montage ended, Batista looked down at her and yanked on her braid again to where his cheek touched hers. "So, anything to say to that, Emery?"

"Go to hell." She said loud enough into the microphone where the crowd actually cheered and felt her face plant into the mat harshly seconds later.

Paul was beside himself backstage watching this, his eyes wide and was on the phone with a screaming Randy.

"I have a feeling it will be you first, sweetheart." David said with a mock sad shake of his head. "You see… I think the Deadman is going to send you there himself, but first…"

For the first time in a week, Mark felt something besides anger and sadness, both usually directed at Emery. He felt regret. Because David Batista had pulled a black Sharpie out of his breast pocket and he was already on his way out the door. Mark had done that to her, humiliated her that way. While he hadn't done it on national television in front of thousands, everyone had known.

"To… what'd he call you? Dork chick?" David asked conversationally as he held Emery still via her braid. "To DC, XOXO Animal." With a flourish of the sharpie, the lights suddenly went out. "Finally!"

Feeling completely helpless, all Emery could do was lay there while David humiliated her in front of all these people, tears streaming like two rivers down her cheeks. Her heart nearly stopped when the lights went out and felt David's hand around her braid tighten to the point where it made her temples throb painfully. Weakly, she fought and it didn't do a damn bit of good because of the alcohol still working its way out of her system.

When the lights came back on, Emery felt her braid release from David's grip as she was thrown into the corner, hitting her head on the turnbuckle. Through hazy vision, she watched as Mark stood in the ring looking like a pissed off bull, no leather duster or hat. He was primed and ready for a fight…and all Emery could do was curl up in a ball, unable to move more than that.

David shook his head, his mouth curling into a sneer as he exploded out of the corner, spearing Mark. "Come to save your whore?" He sneered, throwing punches. "Your little puppet master?"

Emerald eyes had turned venomous and the next punch he caught, Mark clasped David's wrist with both hands and twisted as hard and viciously as he could. When he heard something crack, he let go, shoving the shorter but wider man off him. He snorted, spitting blood out of his mouth as he rolled and pushed himself up. Emery was laying there crying, that crap scrawled on her forehead and, when he spotted a camera man trying to get a closeup of her, he planted his boot right in the lens.

"Stay away from her." He ordered, sparing a glance back at David.

Paul was waiting by gorilla position, hopping from foot to foot, watching the monitor anxiously. Is this what Vince wanted to do to Emery? Is this what Taker had in mind? Randy had broken his phone in a rage, so Paul was waiting to hear back from him again. He'd also yelled at Randy for leaving Emery when she needed him the most since Paul couldn't be there due to his schedule. Batista cried out in pain while holding his wrist and Paul smiled viciously, hoping Taker broke it. It was the same hand that had written that crap all over Emery's forehead. He just hoped she was alright because it looked as though she could barely move.

What the hell did Batista do to her?!

Alcohol-induced coma…there was no way Emery could've possibly consumed that much. Sure, she'd downed a pint or two a day since resigning from WWE and leaving Mark behind, but…that wasn't nearly enough to cause her this kind of lethargy. Even through her hazy mind and pounding head, Emery knew something wasn't right, clutching her stomach as a zip of pain went through it. Hunger. She hadn't eaten in over 12 hours and her body was rebelling against her due to the alcohol and whatever David did to her. If he sexually assaulted her, she was glad she wouldn't remember it and had been unconscious.

She was holding her stomach, her face contorted with pain and he wanted to go check on her, but first… Mark grabbed David by his ears, yanking him up viciously. David had no choice except to get up and move with him or else he would lose said ears. Given he could feel something ripping, David was starting to think this may not have been the best idea. He lashed out with a boot, nailing Mark in the gut and that only got his ears pulled with what felt like the force of a hurricane.

"FUCK!"

He used said ears to toss David out of the ring before crouching down by Emery, hesitating at her smell. She smelled off… Mark bent down, sniffing her face. He could smell sharpie… and whiskey… and he knew that last scent, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. The lights went out as Emery was lifted from the mat, unable to fight off whoever had her since her eyes had closed against the bright lights and roar of the crowd.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

When she opened them again, she was backstage behind the curtain away from all those people and Batista. Paul rushed over to her, but Emery immediately made a beeline for the trashcan nearby and emptied the contents of her stomach. Vomiting until there was nothing left, Emery felt a cool cloth press against her forehead and hazily looked up at Paul, who had a hold of her. The cloth would take away the writing from the sharpie as well as hide it from others, but it was no use. Everyone had saw it already, the entire world. She took a second wet cloth and wiped her mouth off with it, her head spinning as she lost her footing. Swept up again in strong arms, Emery could only close her eyes and prayed her head stopped pounding sooner rather than later, feeling a little better after getting sick.

Paul was hot on Mark's trail, refusing to leave Emery's side after what just happened.

"What's going on?" Larry demanded when the Undertaker all but ran in, taking note of the semi-unconscious woman in his arms.

Emery was trying to speak again, but it was coming out slurred and he bet her head and stomach were killing her. Mark had no idea how long she had been out and doubted the whiskey was still in her system, even if he could smell traces. "Ether poisoning."

"What the hell?!"

"She was knocked out with ether, but the dosage was too high." He knew, he had to play chemist to get the right dosage back in the day. "She needs an IV to flush it out."

"You'll have to walk me through it."

"Ether poisoning?!" Paul felt his jaw drop while standing in the doorway, looking at Emery while Larry started an emergency IV. "You need to take her to the hospital!" Batista had overdosed her with ETHER?! "This needs to be reported…"

"SHUT UP, LONDON!" Larry was concerned about the young lady on his table, having known her for 10 years and he wasn't about to let her die on his watch.

Paul gritted his teeth and stalked off to try to get a hold of Randy, but he stayed nearby in case Emery needed him.

Once the IV was in, Larry said a quick prayer to the heavens, he watched the water start to slide into her body and looked up at Taker, breathing somewhat raggedly. "Her heartbeat is growing stronger along with her pulse. She'll probably sleep the rest of the night. She needs to go back to the hotel, get her out of here."

Mark shook his head negatively. "No. She stays here. You'll leave me the supplies and I'll tend to her myself. I won't have her moved." She'd be vomiting, weak, and passed out throughout the night. He'd move her in the morning. When Larry and Paul both started in on him, he cocked an eyebrow. "Paul, why don't you put your anger to better use and go find Matthew?"

"Why?"

"So we can overdose him."

"Maybe we should call the police…" Larry watched Mark pull a sheet over Emery before sliding a chair to sit by her, noting the other man's eyes were fastened on the IV bag.

* * *

Sometime in the AM, Emery slowly felt her body awaken, eyes fluttering open and reached a weak hand up to touch her head. Holy cow…that had been one HELL of a dream she'd had. Maybe cutting back on the Jack Daniels wasn't a bad idea after all. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Emery managed to roll on her side and nearly fell, cursing at the tiny padded bed she was on. What the hell? This wasn't her house…this wasn't her room either.

"What happened?" She whispered to herself, sitting up slowly and screamed when she heard a low baritone through the darkness, falling off the padded bedding with a thud. "WHAT THE HELL?" Oh, shouting was not a good idea as her temples began pounding.

All he had done was go to grab a quick coffee. Shaking his head, Mark set aside his cup and moved to gently help Emery off the floor, sitting her back on the bed, resting his hands on her sides to steady her. "Darlin', it's me." He said softly, wondering if that would help anything. "Stop trying to move or you'll throw up." Again. She would probably be dizzy and a little tired, maybe hungry. A forced detox… not fun and he had cleaned her up so many times throughout the night, including removing that sharpie off her head, what had been left of it. "Emery, do you remember anything from last night?"

"M-Mark?"

What was Mark doing here? The confusion on her face said it all. She didn't remember anything, not right away at least. Then suddenly, as if someone took a taser to her brain, memories of the previous night flooded through her. Waking up in David's dressing room, to being forced out in front of all those people, watching the montage he'd put together for her and then…the sharpie…Emery reached up to touch her forehead, beginning to tremble violently, unshed tears in her eyes and her breathing kicked up several notches.

"Y-Yeah…yeah I remember…"

Oh god it wasn't a dream! She'd been humiliated by David Batista in front of millions of people on national television! Shaking her head, Emery stumbled off the bedding and held onto it, shutting her eyes tightly.

"I-I gotta get out of here…"

Now, he could have watched her fall. He had seen it coming, she was panicking and panic made people act stupid. A lot of things made people act stupid. Fear and anger, for example, they both knew all about those. But, he caught her when she let go of the bedding.

"Everyone is gone, Emery." He whispered, pulling her up against him. "It's just us." Paul had texted him, so had Orton, and when he found out who had given those annoying pricks his cell number, he'd feed them his battery pack.

"Get off me!"

Emery didn't want to be touched right now, not after what happened to her and shoved his hands away. She quit the WWE, she wasn't supposed to be here and David had dragged her back. Gritting her teeth, Emery wasn't nearly as panicked as she was angry, resentful and full of hatred at the entire company for letting this happen.

"I'm going home, where I should've fucking been this entire time."

Looking down at the clothes she had on, she scowled at the black pants and red dress shirt, wanting to kick David's teeth down his throat. She shivered, feeling incredibly nauseous, but she had nothing left in her system to hack. Some water, lots of water, and aspirin is what she needed along with some toast or crackers. First, she had to get away from Mark and headed for the door to leave. When she collapsed backwards again, he was right there to catch her.

"Emery, you have ether poisoning." Mark confessed quietly, knowing he was the last person she wanted to deal with and he didn't blame her. Not after everything that had happened between them. "We've flushed most of it out, but you're going to be incredibly weak for a while. Let me help you." He even said it in a pleading tone, about as close to 'please' as he was going to get.

"Ether…poisoning?" She said it in a slow, weak voice, looking up at him upside down and felt him sweep her up in his arms to lay her back down on the padded bedding. "He…poisoned me…"

It was no longer a question, just a statement as she stared up at the ceiling and looked away from Mark, silent tears sliding down the corners of her eyes. Some of them dripped to her nose and Emery didn't wipe them away, never feeling so helpless in her life. David had kidnapped her, dosed her with ether and apparently nearly killed her in the process.

"So it wasn't the alcohol..." That didn't comfort her at all as she felt Mark wipe her sweat-covered forehead and tears away. "When I'm better, I'm gone." Shutting her eyes, Emery fell back to sleep again, having exerted herself a lot more than she should've.

She'd be fine soon enough, but now was a good time to move. Mark gathered up his belongings, drained his coffee and texted dumb and dumber, letting them know he was relocating her to a hotel room. Trying to explain why he was carrying a woman through the parking garage and then at the lobby desk was more awkward than he had anticipated. Things had been so much simpler before all this technology had taken over. Sneaking someone into a room had been easier as well. Once she was settled in a room, in a bed, Mark began removing the clothing David had put her in, instantly regretting it. Ether… and sweat, from her body pushing both out of her system after the IV. He'd clean her up, put her in a shirt… and just wait.

Another 8 hours passed by before Emery woke up again, this time feeling a lot better than she had. Her head didn't pound anymore, her vision was clear and she remembered everything that happened. There was no impairment to her memory. She hated David Batista, wishing him a slow and painful death while chomping on some toast and crackers Mark had gotten for her. Just water for the moment – her stomach was still queasy. The bastard hadn't bothered bringing her any identification or anything, so for now Emery was literally stuck with the man who broke her heart. She didn't say more than 3 words to him, keeping to herself and ate silently.

Once the toast and crackers were ingested, she felt ten times better and reached up to scratch her forehead absentmindedly. Vince had tried calling several times to talk to Emery, but she didn't want anything to do with him and Mark had taken care of her former boss. After a shower, Emery felt back to normal again and knew it would be a little while longer before she regained her full strength. Mark lent her another t-shirt to wear and she took it without any problems along with the fresh undergarments he'd paid the maid in the hotel to buy for her. Money spoke volumes these days and could get anyone to do anything, apparently. Walking out, she sat back down on the bed and took the brush that was on the nightstand, beginning to get the tangles out of her hair.

"Orton is at your house." Mark briefed, getting off the phone for what felt like the millionth time today, shaking his head. Randy apparently was having a major guilt trip for leaving her there, after he had gone out to check on her. He had stayed for a few days and then bailed, unable to deal with her depression and… now felt at fault for what had happened. "He's having security installed." Guilt had led to the man going overboard. "And brought a maid in?" That was curious, he remembered her house being clean.

"He shouldn't be doing that." Emery muttered, continuing to brush her hair and finally stopped, tossing the brush to the side on the bed.

How the hell did she get here?

Just a few months ago, her life was damn near perfect and quiet. Then Mark began pursuing her and everything snowballed after that. She was convinced, more than ever, Matthew was helping Batista. Emery supposed she deserved everything that had happened – serving penance and all that. At Mark's curious look, she merely looked away from him and stared out the window, drawing her knees up to rest her cheek on them. Randy's suspension would be up after Backlash, so no doubt he would return to the road when Tuesday rolled around. By then, she would be back in Sedona and hopefully never stepping foot inside a WWE arena again as long as she lived.

"He feels like this is his fault." He said slowly, sinking down at the tiny table, setting aside his cell and returning to the breakfast he had been trying to eat for the past hour or so. It was cold. Mark was famished and kept his gaze on her. "He was there, he left, and you were kidnapped. Paul has been looking for Matthew, but that squirrelly little bastard is gone. Vince said he had put in for TNA, but hadn't lifted his contract yet." He shrugged, letting her make of that what she would.

"I could care less what happens to him. I don't care what happens to Batista either. I just wanna get the hell out of here and go back to Sedona."

Though she would be selling her house, deciding it had too many memories there for her to withstand. The pain in her chest, the hole in her heart, hadn't sealed. It was still there and Emery had to find another way to close it, mend it, without resorting to drinking herself into a stupor. She didn't move from the bed, though her eyes did turn from the window to bury her face in her knees, holding herself tightly. Being in Mark's presence killed her inside and her heart throbbed with pain, gritting her teeth against it. All he could see was a head full of black, her face completely buried since she was under the comforter.

"Yeah, I figured."

Mark finished his food, pushing away from the table and ran his hands through his loose hair, staring at the mass of black. He had booked her a flight, Orton would be at the airport to take her home. He had a feeling Randy was going to wear out his welcome very quickly with Emery in her current state, but… guilt did crazy things. Like right now, he wanted to go hold her, apologize for everything, but had been the one to say no more. That love wasn't enough, and he knew he couldn't keep breaking her like this.

A knock on the door made Emery's head slowly lift while Mark went to answer the door and in walked none other than Vince McMahon himself. "Get out."

"Emery…"

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say, Vince." Emery couldn't look at him, staring at the wall directly in front of her and clenched her fists tightly at her sides.

Vince was stubborn, nodding at Mark and walked over to sit on the bed somewhat away from her. "Listen to me Emery, please. I had no idea what Batista was planning and after Backlash, he's being suspended."

"Great." Emery snorted, rolling her eyes and shook her head, finally turning cold ice blues on her old boss. "What the hell do you want, Vince? Just spit it out."

"Well…" Vince cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together slowly. "I know the type of position I put you in and for that, I'm…"

"Don't you dare apologize to me. It's a little late for that, don't you think, Vince?" Emery stood up from the bed, trying like hell to keep her temper in check. "You gave me a job to do…and it destroyed lives. This wasn't supposed to go like this. Do you know that Matthew, my ex-proxy, is the one who's been helping Batista? The proxy YOU gave me because it was YOUR idea, solely, for me to have one so I didn't have to deal with the wrestlers' attitudes when a line popped up they didn't like! Well guess what, Matthew is getting his revenge against me by ripping apart my life and all you have to say to me is SORRY?"

"Emery…"

"No! No, Vince. I didn't have a problem with dealing with the wrestlers and their attitudes, but you thought I couldn't handle it. You thought LYING to your employees about who the lead script writer actually was, and putting someone in that kinda of situation, was the way to go. You were WRONG! And so was I. I never should've let you talk me into having a proxy. I never should've came up with half the stupid, ridiculous ideas for you to use against the wrestlers, especially Mark. I should've never taken this damn job in the first place! And now you're going to tell me that you want me to stay until Backlash, right? Because 'DC' has been exposed on your television, on your watch, and now you want me to go out there with Mark to watch him destroy Batista, right? RIGHT?" She was trembling with barely contained rage, her eyes nothing more than ice.

"Y-Yeah…" Vince swallowed hard, not remembering the last time he'd gotten a tongue lashing of this magnitude from a woman. "People are already talking about you…"

"I'm sure they fucking are after seeing what Batista put me through." Emery shook her head sadly, placing a hand over her forehead as if covering it up and shut her eyes. "Fine. Fine Vince, I'll do it. But I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because I DO want to watch Mark destroy him and being front row and center will be the best seat in the fucking house. Now you can exit the way you entered and thanks for everything. MUCH appreciated." Storming into the bathroom, she slammed the door shut so hard, the walls shook throughout the room.

"Well then…Mark, talk to her. I know she said she would, but… if you could-" Vince swallowed hard when the giant stood up, taking a step backwards. "Now, you know…"

He knew quite a bit and wasn't impressed. "Out."

"It's just business."

"Out."

"Now Mark, you need to sign for Backlash and-" Vince let out a yelp when he was physically picked up and tossed out of the room.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

A courier sent over the documents for Emery to sign later that evening and she did without hesitation, even drawing a big middle finger to show Vince exactly what she thought of him at the end of her signature. She slid the papers back in the envelope, sent them off with the courier and went back to lay down. Emery couldn't believe she was doing this, but still planned on going back to Sedona until Sunday. Mark didn't want to be around her any longer than necessary and she didn't blame him. Her flight wasn't until the morning, due to a storm raging outside, so she was stuck until then with Mark in a hotel room. The last time they were in this close proximity had been when they called it quits and both had walked out, after confessing they loved each other, but it wasn't enough. There was no love here – only pain, hate, lies, fear and tears.

This was driving him insane and it was not helped that, somehow, Orton and Douche Boy London had started a group text chat with him in it. He was still trying to figure out how to get out of it. "How the fuck do I stop this fucking group shit?" He growled, tempted to smash his phone.

"Give it here." Emery narrowed her eyes when he continued pressing buttons on the phone and it didn't do any good. "Do you want me to fix it or not?" She snatched it from him when he reluctantly handed it over, did a few swipes and click – done. "Here you go."

She tossed it back at him, feeling restless and really wished David had brought her belongings because then she wouldn't be bored out of her damn mind in this room. The lightning flashed across the sky, thunder rumbling shortly afterwards and she walked over to the window to watch the rain fall. Mark was just as restless as she was and, if they were still together, if that's what their relationship could have been classified as, he would have found a way to occupy them both.

"Do you want to use my laptop?" He offered finally, a bit tired with her incessant pacing. "Or maybe a hot bath?" Randy had explicitly stated she was not to have whiskey or Twinkies.

"No. Thanks anyway."

Emery had so many questions for him, but none of them would come out. Why did he save her? Why did he give a damn what happened to her? Why did he stay with her the entire night, apparently cleaning up after vomit episodes? Paul could've easily helped her and stayed with her, but no…Mark did. It confused her because he hated her, at least that was her assumption.

 _Try to avoid lying to the next man you love._

Those words made all the other questions instantly vanish out of her mind, the pain in her eyes unmistakable while she continued watching the rain beat against the glass.

Shrugging, he rifled through his duffel bag, retrieving his own clothes and slipped into the bathroom to change for the night. Mark did leave the door open, knowing she wasn't going to be peeking, in order to keep an eye on her. He didn't trust Emery to stay put. Slipping into black drawstring pajama bottoms and a black beater, Mark brushed his hair out. He wondered if being stuck in this room with him was wreaking havoc on her the way it was him.

His laptop was standard and didn't have nearly enough power to run her WoW game, which was one of the only reasons she used hers these days. There were other games, but she wasn't interested in playing them. The only thing that interested her was the man in the bathroom that made her blood boil in both good and bad ways. Her body wanted him along with her heart, but her mind kept replaying their fight over in her head. He would never forgive her for what she did. Mark said it himself – love wasn't enough between them. They had caused each other enough pain to last both a lifetime, possibly two, and Emery refused to set herself up for another disappointment.

When he came out, Mark went straight for the laptop on the table. It was just some off-the-shelf thing, nothing like her Alienware had been. He used it for checking e-mail, booking his room and travel arrangements, it was also great for keeping touch with his family. If he was honest, he also played a few games: Solitaire and now Civilization 4, something Paul had introduced him to last night as a way to keep himself occupied and awake while tending to her. This was stupid and awkward. Why was he doing this? Oh yeah, he knew why. Mark had told her several times that she was a sucker for pain.

Apparently, so was he.

"Uh… there's Civ 4 on it?"

"What?" Emery snapped her head to stare at him, drawing her brows together and could tell Mark didn't have a clue what he was doing. Sighing, she walked over and turned the laptop a little toward her, typing a few things. "First, you need to make a log-in account." When Mark just raised a brow at her, Emery took a deep breath and sat on his lap since there wasn't another chair at the table. "Okay, do you see what I'm doing here? You have to move these blocks and create your own world in the Stone Age and build it up to today's age. Your own empire, whatever you want." She was going to kill Paul for introducing him to this ridiculous game. "Personally, I think you'd like World of Warcraft better, but…anyway, that's basically the gist of what Civ 4 involves."

"I meant for you to play and I'm not interested in World of Warcraft, as if I need something else to become addicted to." He frowned, wondering what she was doing. "Woman, these aren't blocks. This is my Settler… He follows the explorers, builds a city where I tell him too and then I run each city to build up my empire."

She had started a new game. Good, because he had worked hard on his and what the HELL WAS HE DOING? When Emery stared at him like he was someone besides the Undertaker, Mark turned his face away, pretty sure his ears were turning red. She was sitting on his lap, trying to explain a game to him like he was a dipshit and he was blushing like he was 13! Compared to her, he was clueless on this stuff. If she made ONE snarky comment, he was going to offer her a Twinkie.

"Who are you and what have you done with Mark Calaway? Are you actually telling me the big bad Undertaker is ENJOYING a computer game?" This was too perfect; this was hilarious and Emery bit her bottom lip, feeling the laughter shaking her shoulders. He shoved her off of his lap and she lost it, not remembering the last time she actually laughed. "You're a dork! You're a big nerd now!" She accused through gasps of breath, falling on the bed in a fit of giggles and kicked her feet, her stomach killing her. Emery didn't think she'd ever laugh again in her life and felt tears slide out of the corners of her eyes down her face for a good reason instead of a broken heart.

"Enjoying ONE fucking game does not make me a nerd." He growled, not as amused as she was with this and folded his arms over his chest, watching her having a giggling fit on the bed. Mark wasn't all that mad though, because she was kicking her feet and showing off what her mother gave her. Bless that woman. "Please… by all means, enjoy yourself at my expense."

"Two! You enjoy two games or did you forget the one we played together when you came to first visit me in Sedona?" Emery remarked once she calmed down, staring up at the ceiling with her legs spread out and her chest rose and fell somewhat fast.

It'd been so long since she laughed and it felt great. That meant she still had life inside of her and her heart wasn't completely dead. One day, she would find who she was meant to be with. Mark wasn't it and she had to accept that. Maybe this would the beginning of her moving on from him.

"By all means, continue with your game. Don't let me stop you…Dead Nerd."

"I will, Twinkie."

He had moved on from dork chick, even in play he would never call her that again. Mark had called her Queenie, and his Queen, but those… those would change the mood in this room in a heartbeat and he had honestly missed the sound of her laughter. He had been worried, after seeing her and how she had reacted, what Randy had told him about her week of binge drinking and junk food dieting, about her mental health. Hearing this beautiful sound from her… Emery could laugh at him all she wanted.

"Randy has such a big mouth. It was only a couple boxes." Emery muttered good-naturedly, slowly pulling herself up on the bed and felt her stomach growl, immediately reaching for the phone. "You're feeding me since I'm stuck with you." She didn't wait for him to give his approval and dialed room service, ordering a few things including some cheesecake. She had an appetite again and cheesecake sounded really good for some reason. "Thanks." Emery looked up at him, seeing him nod and once again, those questions burned in her mind about why he'd helped her. "For what you did for me last night too. Thanks." Mark would not hear that again from her, if she could help it and laid on her stomach with her head on the pillow, once again looking outside.

"It was a matter of practicality." He noticed she probably had swallowed a lot of pride in thanking him, of all people. "I worked with ether, you should remember. Ministry." A twinge shot through Mark, foot in mouth syndrome had hit with that 'you should remember' comment, though he hadn't meant it the way it sounded. "Point is, I know plenty about ether and I'm the one who diagnosed your poisoning." And told Larry how to treat it, then did the rest, but he wasn't looking for a medal. "Paul wanted you to go to the ER…" He had said no.

It stung to hear that come out of his mouth, but Emery pushed it aside since it didn't matter anymore. Just one of the many reasons they weren't together. "I should remember considering I'm the one who wrote you using it in some of your matches." She remarked in a softer voice, honestly proud of her work she'd written regarding the Ministry storyline. Not the Corporate Ministry, but just the Ministry of Darkness itself. "So you saved a woman you hate. Pretty smooth, Calaway. You could've just sent me to the hospital like Paul wanted. Then you wouldn't have to put up with me now." Emery immediately regretted those words as soon as they came out of her mouth and shut her eyes, heaving a sigh.

Unfortunately, he had learned a long time ago that Emery was socially awkward and stupid. She said some of the dumbest crap at the stupidest of times, like it was a giant soap opera. "You may have written to use the ether, but obviously you never took into consideration that there can be side effects. We had to learn as we went." Mark explained, careful to keep inflection from his tone, letting it remain neutral. "I was… equipped to deal with it, so I did. Taking you to the hospital seemed risky given that Batista had already kidnapped you from a supposedly safe location once." His eyes flickered to her forehead, where the other man had signed his autograph. "I'm sorry that you were dragged back into this."

"Not your fault, Mark. This is all on me. If I would've just been honest and told Vince to shove the proxy idea up his ass, none of this would be happening right now. Everyone would know where the ideas came from and Matthew wouldn't be seeking revenge for what happened to him. This is all my fault…I deserve everything that's happened to me." Those last few words were said in a whisper, but loud enough for Mark to hear as Emery remained where she was, feeling fresh tears swell behind her eyelids.

She was nothing more than a dork chick – a pencil pushing geek – and nothing would ever change that.

What David and Matthew were doing was her penance.

"Have you ever considered just apologizing to the guy?" Mark asked curiously, watching as she retreated into herself. "Matthew, did you ever tell him thanks for what he did, or apologize?"

He knew for a fact Matthew had taken the blame and crap from the wrestlers, wondering if the man had ever been told how much he was appreciated, which he doubted. Otherwise, he wouldn't be pulling these video shenanigans now. Money only went so far. He had been one of Matthew's tormentors, when he had thought Matthew was in charge, dropping and locking his ass in a rental came to mind. Mark parked his ass, knowing it was all moot anyway. Emery would go back to Sedona, make one more appearance, and then wash her hands of this business. He didn't know if he blamed her anymore.

"No because he sucked at his job."

Emery snorted, recalling all the times Matthew had bitched and whined to her about how the wrestlers were treating him. All she'd told him to do was go to Vince. She couldn't control anything the wrestlers did, she just wrote the ideas and watched them come to life on-screen. His job was to deal with the wrestlers and he didn't live up to expectations.

"He called me after I was reinstated into the company, when he was demoted, and begged me to let him be my proxy again. I didn't do it…because Cheryl was much better at the job than him. And I don't regret telling him that because it's the truth. Sometimes, the truth fucking hurts."

That was a lesson she'd learned the hard way.

"A minute ago you were whining and basking in self-pity… now you're… it is ironic."

She obviously didn't view Matthew in a very good light, at all. Mark wondered if it was lost on her how she was treating Matthew, or viewed him, was the same way she was now suffering herself in its own little way. He did usually enjoy sorting out puzzles, minds, but hers was off-limits.

"Cheryl is better at the job." Then both of them actually. Cheryl didn't have Emery's brilliance, but did possess the people skills Emery lacked. "I think your food is here."

After getting her food from the door, Emery began eating quietly on the bed, mulling over Mark's words. She did believe truly she was getting what she deserved by Batista and Matthew, but it still didn't piss her off any less about the situation. Matthew could've came to her like a man and expressed his grievances. Emery would've been understanding; she wasn't the best with people, but according to Randy and Paul, she was a great listener and friend. That's what Emery could've been to Matthew if he would've came to her without bitching, moaning and complaining. Just talking to her like a regular person would've been enough. She would've talked to Vince about what was going on to try to smooth it over because Vince valued her opinion and views about things, at the time.

No, Matthew had to be a sneaky, vengeful son of a bitch and went behind her back to try to get her fired, which Emery would never forgive. Why should she apologize to someone like that? Someone who was purposely ripping her world to shreds? Hell no, Matthew could rot in hell for all she cared alongside David Batista! No other words were spoken between them as Emery finished eating and tossed her garbage away before laying down, feeling exhausted again. Tomorrow, she would be home in Sedona and immediately start the search for a new house – a new beginning – far away from the WWE and Mark Calaway.

He kept his opinions to himself after that. Mark knew already he was a selfish prick who didn't care all that much about too many people and he was fine with it. But then again… it wasn't him being targeted and he had to wonder if, after Backlash, this would all be over. Only he got to break into Emery's house and pull antics like Batista had. Mark hadn't been intending to kill her, dumbass David could've with his lack of intelligence. Sighing, he dropped down on the bed, there was only the one, deciding tonight he was sleeping properly.

Providing her presence let him.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

"You know, part of this is your fault too."

"Not now, Cheryl." Mark grunted, wondering why she wasn't up Orton's backside, or working, or anything except bothering him in his dressing room where he was shadow boxing, trying to get his head in the game. It was hard.

Emery was currently occupying all available mental space.

"If you would've just taken your line like a man, none of this would've happened."

"Does Orton know you're pregnant?"

"What the hell, Calaway?" She gaped at him, her eyes narrowing. "Make it right with her."

* * *

It wasn't a surprise Randy was at her house with flowers, alongside Paul, when Emery arrived later the next day. She hugged them, but her heart wasn't in it and didn't take the flowers, stepping inside her freshly cleaned house. Immediately, she took her entire stash of Jack Daniels and tossed it in the trash can, refusing to drink a drop of whiskey again. Then she whipped out her Alienware laptop, missing it over the past few days and started looking up real estate companies to sell her house. Looking for something away from Sedona was on the agenda until Sunday. World of Warcraft and everything else would have to wait. Randy and Paul made meals, tried to talk to her, but she just nodded or shook her head, not wanting to discuss what happened. She wasn't drinking herself into a stupor or eating multiple packs of Twinkies, her mind focused on one thing and that was getting the hell out of this cursed house and starting her life over.

By the time Sunday morning rolled around, Emery dreaded it, wishing the days hadn't flown by as fast as they did. Randy was allowed to attend Backlash, even though his suspension wasn't up for a few more days. Vince wanted to have a meeting with him to discuss the next road his career would go. So together, all three boarded the plane headed for Atlanta, Georgia. Throughout her days off, Emery had focused on cleaning her house because the maid service Randy hired didn't do a thorough job. If she wanted to sell her house for the price she wanted, it had to be immaculate.

The boys helped and now her house looked like a show house, all of her things packed away neatly in boxes stacked in the corner of her bedroom. Emery hadn't found a place to live yet, but she was hopeful and if not, her parents said she could stay with them until she was back on her feet. No job meant no income and no way to pay bills, after all. TNA was tempting, but Emery wanted out of the wrestling business completely after everything that happened.

Walking inside the Philips Arena, she hugged Randy and let Paul escort her to Mark's dressing room, her hair braided over her shoulder. She had on skinny blue jeans and a black off the shoulder top, the material sealing to every curve of her body. Knocking, she waited for the 'come in' and stepped inside, hugging Paul before sending him on his way.

He was in just tights and boots, bare from the waist up with his damp, touched up, freshly dyed black hair spilled down around his shoulders. "Hey." Mark greeted, turning to face her and had to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Where the HELL were those shirts when she was working here? She was always in something dorky and childish. Now… his emerald green eyes roamed those curves the blouse basically draped over, coming down over her lush hips those skinny jeans only emphasizing.

"You look… nice." Gorgeous. Ravishing. Fuckable. All better compliments, but Mark didn't want to make things more awkward between them.

The glasses were gone too. Vince wanted her to look the part and, honestly, she wouldn't put it past Batista to try snatching them off her face. Emery opted for contacts since this would be the one and only time the WWE fans saw her…besides the fiasco that had gone down on Smackdown!. Emery had to learn how to breathe again at the sight of him, keeping her eyes locked on his instead of devouring him visually. He was quite the specimen, chiseled out of stone and looked ready to fight for his very life.

What the hell had she been thinking when she wrote that ridiculous WrestleMania ending?

"Thanks, you too." That was an understatement, more like delectable, scrumptious, delicious…they weren't together, she had to keep reminding herself of that heartbreaking fact.

Mark didn't think he looked any different from usual; he was a pretty straightforward and simple in his attire, but… he wasn't passing down a compliment from a beautiful woman. How he had never seen past those glasses and gamer t-shirts in the past was beyond him. There had always been a beautiful woman beneath those things and his stupid ass hadn't seen it until she donned an outfit that had made her stunning by societal norms. He was such a bastard.

"Ready for tonight?" He grunted, clearing his throat and turned away from her, before he did something like snatch her up for a kiss and wind up with her knee lodged in his balls.

"No." Emery wouldn't lie to him, learning her lesson and he would be able to tell if she was anyway. "I feel nauseous because I don't want to do this. I don't want to go out in front of all those people."

She'd been tempted to break the small contract with Vince and not come, but after thinking it through, Mark had been right before. They had to face this head-on tonight and she would be gone afterwards. Her redeye was already planned to leave at 11 PM and she'd be back in Sedona before long. Just a few more hours and Mark would never have to see her again.

"I'll…try to stay out of your way out there." Sitting in a metal folding chair in the corner, Emery kept her head down while fiddling with her freshly painted black nails.

Anywhere except the gorgeous man in front of her.

"You're fine, I know you will."

Cheryl's words came back to him about making it right, but just how was he supposed to do that? Mark cursed that woman, internally, and then whipped out his cell phone. He sent a simple text to Randy Orton: **Hope YOUR kid's brain cells aren't stunted from the smoke**. He waited long enough to get a **WTF** before shutting off his cell for the night. Let those two sort it out and mind their own damn business.

Sure enough, 5 minutes later, Emery's cell phone went off and her eyeballs nearly popped out of her head at him screaming Cheryl was pregnant in her ear. "WHAT?!" Her exclamation made Mark jump, her voice shrill and hopped up from her chair. "Oh my god…Randy, you…DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT PROTECTION IS?!"

"OF COURSE I FUCKIN' DO, BUT WE WERE DRUNK AND-"

"I DON'T CARE! You ALWAYS wrap that shit! Oh man…you're gonna be a Daddy…" Emery had mixed feelings about this, hearing how panicked Randy was and knew she had to reach for a little white semi-lie. "Just calm down, you're going to be a great father. And you're ready for this." Truth and lie all wrapped in one.

"No, no I'm fucking not! Don't you lie to me, Em!" Randy was going to have a panic attack, smoking cigarette after cigarette. "I'm a fucking grown ass man who spends all his free time playing World of Warcraft, smoking pot and GETTING MY GIRLFRIEND OF LESS THAN A FEW MONTHS PREGNANT!"

Mark could hear Orton freaking out and smirked, keeping his back to Emery so she couldn't see him laughing. That would teach those dicks to mind their own business.

"RANDALL KEITH ORTON, YOU BETTER NOT BE SMOKING THAT SHIT ANYMORE AFTER YOU GOT SUSPENDED!" Emery shrieked, beginning to pace back and forth in the dressing room while Randy continued losing his figurative mind over the phone. Both of them yelling and screaming wasn't going to solve anything, so Emery had to be the one to calm down. "Listen to me right now, you are going to be a father. You need to get that through your head. WoW and pot and all the other bullshit you do needs to end. You have a responsibility to that baby and you WILL keep your job here or I will kick your ass all the way to a pot smoking anonymous club, like AA, and MAKE you quit. You can do this. And it's not like you can't ever play games or WoW again, but now you'll have a baby in one arm whenever you have a controller in your hand or a laptop on your lap."

"Emery… shut up, you're not helping. I TRAVEL all the time, and so does Cheryl! We're only… we're only dating and how is this going to work, huh? Us both on the road, she gets custody because we're not married and I am going to fucking hurl. You can tell Calaway he's a fucking son of a bitch and I'm going to punt his ugly head off his fat neck when I get back!"

"Wait what?" Emery blinked when the line went dead and slowly slid her eyes over to where Mark had his back turned. She could see his shoulders shaking and narrowed icy blues on him, feeling her jaw tighten. "YOU TOLD HIM ABOUT CHERYL'S PREGNANCY!" It wasn't a question, she was flat out accusing him and scowled at his roaring laughter moments later. "What the hell is WRONG with you, Calaway?! Do you realize what you just did?! That was something Cheryl should've told him herself! You're a prick!"

"She's known for 2 weeks, darlin'." He said with a snigger. "And every female in this building knows about it." How did anyone think he had known? Women gossiped. "She's had plenty of time."

Mark was tired of Cheryl's mouth in relation to him and Emery, also annoyed with Randy constantly blowing up his cell. Why that idiot thought they were friends… was beyond him. He knew it was all because of their connection to Emery, but besties they were not.

"I just helped."

"Helped? You HELPED? You helped them by texting Randy what you did?!" Randy had informed her of the lovely text message and Emery was tempted to shove Mark's phone up his backside. "That's not funny, stop laughing." The sheer amusement glittering in his eyes made her own eyes twinkle, despite being upset on behalf of her best friend. "You are so…wrong and you need to apologize to them." Poor Randy, he had a meeting with Vince in a couple minutes and the man had smoked at least half a dozen cigarettes since finding out about Cheryl's pregnancy. "You're such an asshole. There was no reason for you to do that to them."

"No trust me, darlin', there is."

Mark wouldn't tell her about them being dickheads. About Cheryl coming and yelling at him, about the million texts messages a day he got from Randy. And Paul now that he thought about it; he'd have to figure out a way to stop that chaos, without laying hands on the younger man.

"It'd be easier for me to quit laughing if you weren't trying to keep yourself from smiling, Queenie. Admit it, it's funny."

"I admit nothing, Deadman. My lips are sealed."

Emery did the mock zipping lips motion with her fingers, tossing the invisible key over her shoulder and felt her heart do a leap at being called Queenie. It felt great to be called that again. Cheryl was going to kill Mark for dropping the bomb on Randy via text message. Hell hath no fury like a pregnant woman scorned. Now that the ice was broken between them, Emery felt a little more comfortable being stuck with Mark again in his dressing room. She didn't dare leave unless he went with her because of David lurking around. Matthew had put his resignation in and was on his way to TNA after the kidnapping went down. Personally, Emery thought he was a coward and knew karma would bite him in the backside one day for what he did to her. After tonight, the mind games were over anyway and there would be no more videos. Her phone ringing again made Emery sigh as she picked it up and saw who it was.

"My realtor." Was her explanation for Mark before answering the call on the third ring and began discussing possible locations on where she wanted to move.

Mark would openly admit that he was nosy and listened to her conversation. She had a realtor, which told him she was looking to buy, sell or a combination of the two. That was a little sad because she had taken great pride in her house. It became apparent, quickly, that she was selling. He supposed he understood why, because of what happened with David. Mark also imagined he had also contributed to the painful memories there and sighed, turning away to resume gearing up.

The crowd thundered and the tension permeating the air was thick. Emery stayed by Mark's side while they walked down the hallway, feeling him take her hand and she didn't push him away. She needed all the strength she could get right now, keeping her head high and eyes straight ahead. That was until they arrived at gorilla position and David stood there, looking cocky and arrogant. Mark squeezed her hand, letting her know he was there and did her best not to look in David's direction, just waiting for the entrances to happen.

"I can do this. I can do this. I can do this." She kept whispering under her breath and closed her eyes, suddenly snapping them open to look up at Mark. "Promise me something." Emery didn't care if he was trying to get into character, tears swimming in her eyes she tried desperately not to let fall.

"Depends on what it is," He wasn't about to commit himself to agreeing to something, only for it to bite him on the backside afterwards. They had danced to that tune too many times.

"I'm thinking of putting Deadman's Whore on your forehead next, geek." David taunted, twirling another black sharpie between his fingers.

"Ignore him." Mark put his body between her and David, shielding her from view. "What do you want me to promise, Emery?" He reached out to wipe away the single tear that fell down her cheek.

"Promise me you'll be safe. Don't take unnecessary risks out there. Promise me we walk back here together when it's all said and done."

Emery reached up to touch his face, speaking softly to where only he could hear. She didn't want him going to the hospital because of Batista. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she loved him and it showed in her eyes, not masking anything from him. It didn't matter if they were together or not, Emery didn't want him to get hurt and she knew how angry he was for what Batista did to her, the amount of humiliation she went through. The last thing she wanted was him getting hurt because of revenge on her behalf. It wasn't worth it.

Looking past her, staring at Batista, Mark remained quiet for a moment before finally turning his attention back to Emery. "I can't promise that, darlin'." He said softly. "I can't promise it because I can't tell you what he's going to do." He could say sure, but in the end, whatever David pulled out there would be a deciding factor in how this went down. "I can try, that's the best I can tell you, Emery." Mark was still going to beat that asshole down though, because of what he had done.

It was a bit hypocritical of him, sure, given everything he had done to her, but there it was.

Love made people stupid.

Emery had nothing more to say and just nodded solemnly, looking away to wipe a few more tears away. No makeup meant she didn't have to worry about anything smearing. Emery knew she was making her entrance separate from both of them because of the mystique of Undertaker's character.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Taking a deep breath, she made her entrance and kept her eyes on the ring, the crowd erupting when they saw her. For reason, she had no idea. She looked behind her and around, not trusting David wasn't up to something, but nobody came. It was her. They were cheering HER. Frowning, Emery walked around to ringside and took a seat beside John Bradshaw Layfield – most called him JBL. He offered her a bottled water and she shook her head, clasping her hands together in her lap and watched David and Mark make their entrances. Before long, the match was underway and it started out fierce, competitive and harsh. Of course David was the villain here, he had made that abundantly clear when he had basically bullied this woman on television in front of thousands, not that they knew it was real. For all they knew, it was scripted.

"Hey, dork chick!" He shouted at her after he managed to get away from Mark's punches, his head spinning. "Want another round with the Animal?" Let the Deadman sort out what that meant.

Emery showed him exactly what she thought of him, flipping him the bird and shrieked when he grabbed her by her braid, yanking her up from the chair. She remembered what Mark showed her, the anger flooding through her body and promptly kicked him between the legs, making him instantly release her. Emery stumbled back against the barricade just as Mark flipped over the top rope and her eyes instantly devoured his chest whole since he'd tugged the straps down to hug around his waist. His eyes asked her silently if she was alright and she nodded before taking her seat again, holding the back of her head. She hoped the mother fucker couldn't have kids with that kick from her steel toed black boots she had on.

The match went on, with Mark taking the upper hand, thanks to Emery's rather painful looking kick to the balls. He knew how that felt… he'd been there. Eventually, Batista came out of it enough to start properly fighting back and the brawl escalated outside of the ring. He had to keep David away from her, away from that side and they brawled their way up the ramp, to the stage, exchanging punches. David's head was going to explode if Mark didn't stop hitting him there and he blinked, clearing his vision before snapping forward with a spear.

"Jesus Christ!" JBL screamed through the headset when both men went over the stage.

"No!"

Emery popped out of her chair and took off running around the ring up the rampway, stopping to take in the horrific scene. When Batista speared Mark, the entire stage on the right side -left from where she stood- collapsed on top of them with sparks flying. That wasn't staged or planned! Emery covered her mouth with her hand, watching the officials rush out from the back to try to get the carnage off of both men. Neither answered the count of 10. Neither could move…for what seemed like forever.

Then, miraculously, Mark emerged and Emery clutched the barricade, relief flooding her body. JBL described it as him rising from the ashes like a newborn phoenix and she couldn't have agreed more. Emery waited until he was out of the carnage and felt his arm wrap around her waist, drawing her against him while they looked back at the explosive ending to the match. David had emerged as well, but he looked worse for wear, especially since his leg was heavily taped prior to the match.

"Do you need to go to the trainer's?" She asked Mark quietly, looking up at him while they headed through the curtain. He had to be hurting after that spear.

He nodded, not saying a word. That fucking bastard… his ribs were killing him from the spear. The fall and landing with David on top of him. If something wasn't broken, it would be a miracle. Mark really hoped the other man was dead, because he had managed, somehow to grab David's head and crack it on their way down. It would easily be written off as an accident and he'd feel a lot better.

Guiding him to the trainer's room, Emery watched as Mark was laid down on the padded bedding while Larry looked him over, chewing her thumbnail nervously. She felt someone walk up to stand alongside her and didn't have to look up to see who it was, feeling one hand on her shoulder and then another on the other. Her boys. They were always there for her and Emery would miss them, but the WWE was no longer home to her, not after everything that happened. She would find a new home, a new path in life and felt tears swell in her eyes, her eyes not leaving Mark for a second.

"That was a hell of a fall. Are you okay?" Randy asked quietly, already knowing she wasn't, but felt it was necessary to anyway.

Emery shook her head, knowing she was far from alright.

"If you love him…"

Another head shake stopped him from saying another word.

Given the severity of the situation, Randy didn't even feel the need to punt Mark's fat head off his ugly neck for the text earlier. Instead, he looped his arm around her, feeling Paul doing the same and they nestled her between them, letting Emery know they were here.

"Well, congrats champ, you have a broken rib AND a title to defend."

"You're not funny." Mark groaned, really hoping David was dead now. He had wrestled injured before. "I got time off…"

"Take it. You'll need it."

Cringing at the news, Emery hoped he'd be alright by himself since she was on her way back to Sedona tonight. The guilt ate away at her, not wanting to leave him. She didn't want to leave him, period, but that wasn't an option. He didn't want her, he only tolerated her because of this line and now it was over. She silently hoped David was hurt a lot worse than Mark, her icy blues glazing over with tears.

"I need to go." Her flight was leaving soon and Mark wasn't done with Larry, but she wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. Stepping up to the doorway, she tapped on the door and Larry walked out to give them a minute alone. "Cracked rib, huh? That sucks, I'm sorry." The injury could've been a lot worse. "You got lucky."

"Yeah, a legit excuse to go home for a bit." Mark laughed, then winced, his ribs heavily wrapped, knowing that would get old fast. "No word on Batista yet, but…" He bet they were keeping him elsewhere, out of the line of danger. Or he was dead. "You heading out, darlin'?"

"Yeah…" Emery didn't know what else to say to him, her heart cracking down the middle because this really was it. She would never see him again. "I just wanted to…say goodbye. Thank you for everything. Take care of yourself, Mark."

Reaching out, she squeezed his hand briefly and then walked out, their fingers slipping from each other. Emery hugged Randy, telling him to call her later to talk about the baby situation and then hugged Paul. She promised both she would call once she walked through her front door. Taking one last look at Mark in the trainer's room, Emery headed down the hallway and walked out of the arena, finally letting the tears stream down her cheeks.

"You fucked up." Randy informed Mark almost as soon as Emery had disappeared down the hallway.

"Don't I know it." He grunted, sitting up slowly with assistance and then proceeded to wait for Larry to fill out the paperwork for his trip to the ER for x-rays.

"So… how are you going to fix it?"

How was Mark going to fix it?

* * *

It'd been a month since Emery left the WWE behind and started over. Her realtor wasn't having any luck with selling the house and, after thinking about it, she decided not to sell and canceled the realtor. She loved her house and now that WWE was a thing of the past, she could focus on the future. The money wasn't an issue; the WWE had paid her well over the past 10 years so she had a nice nest-egg to live on until she could find a job. Instead of wallowing in despair and heartache, Emery attended some gaming functions and soon, Comic Con would be coming to Phoenix, which she would be attending. It was nice sleeping in her own bed, though Emery still cried herself to sleep at night missing Mark. She didn't know if the pain of losing him would ever go away, hoping it did.

"So how's it going with the baby?"

"Randy is still panicked over it, but other than that fine. My first ultrasound I heard the heartbeat and fell in love." Cheryl sighed wistfully, rubbing her still flat stomach. "I'm only 2 months along, but I feel like it should be longer."

"I wouldn't know, but I'm happy for you guys and don't worry about Randall. He'll get more excited once you start showing and it becomes real to him." He'd been stuck on the road while Cheryl was home at the first OBGYN appointment, which he was upset about and had bitched to her for an hour straight about Vince being a heartless dick. "Did he stop smoking weed at least?"

"Yeah, that's probably why he's a grumpy bastard lately. Still love him though."

* * *

"You're brilliant, you know that?"

"Get out of the mirror, Orton," Mark snorted, glancing over his shoulder to find Randy chatting at himself in the mirror. "It was my idea."

"It was, and I will admit, a beautiful one. I honestly didn't think you could be so…"

"If you call this romantic, I will beat your ass."

"Hey, for someone like Emery, this is practically a marriage proposal."

"Tell him how Cheryl is mad because you proposed."

"Shut up, we were talking about his idea and how I had to pimp my face and my ID just to get it going."

"I'm sorry I'm not a fucking dork?"

Mark would never understand why these idiots felt the need to bother him. They thought they were friends or something and, once again, he blamed Emery. This was all HER fault. He had JUST come back on the road and they were so stuck up his backside, he was afraid he'd never dislodge them.

"Anyways, he proposed, like… as soon as he seen her, with this cheap ring and she LOST HER MIND because she said he didn't love her, he just didn't want a bastard child."

"Ouch."

"You know," Randy began defensively, not amused as Paul and Mark had a really good laugh at his expense, his ears were bright red and he wore his hair short so everyone could see! "Most women WANT to be proposed to. I've had girlfriends PUNCH me because I DIDN'T propose, so how the fuck was I supposed to know?"

"Timing is everything, son."

* * *

"Can you believe that prick?!"

"Uhm…" Emery had no words, wondering if Randy really was that stupid or maybe he was dropped on his head as a child. "Umm…"

"Exactly – EXACTLY! That asshole proposed to me only because of the baby! Not out of love or anything – oh no! I can't believe him!" Cheryl began crying, burying her face in her hands. "I-I do love him, but…I don't want him marrying me out of obligation just because I'm popping his kid!"

"Right." Emery just nodded and smiled, knowing better than to argue with a 2 month pregnant, hormonal and emotional woman. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No!"

After dealing with a hormonal pregnant woman on the phone, for 2 hours, Emery was ready to do her raid on World of Warcraft and blow everybody and everything to smithereens. Her head hurt, but thanks to Advil liquid gels, she was ready to rock and roll with a Pepsi in front of her. Caffeine jolt in case she began feeling sleepy. This was going to be a long raid, at least 3 hours, so she hoped Randy had gotten himself situated because it was game time.

"RKO, are you there?" She asked in her headset, leaning back against the couch and began typing to someone else within the guild who couldn't make it for tonight's raid.

One person down wouldn't matter.

"RKO, what does that even mean?" A guildmate asked, snickering.

"It's a wrestler. He's gorgeous."

"I bet he's a faggot, wrestling is gay."

"Eat me, troll." Randy was not gay; he had a baby on the way! Of course, baby mama drama in abundance, but a little RKO Jr on the way.

"This guy is new, you should boot him, RKO."

"Punt his ass?" He sent a private message to Emery to check the guy's profile and see if he was new. That meant he was probably a troll as their guild was usually chill.

"And booted, see you troll." Emery snorted, rolling her eyes and laughed when everyone started cheering her that was truly in their guild. "Okay guys and gals, gals and guys, you know what we're doing tonight. Our goal is to get to the castle, it's a long trek, so I hope you all are prepared for a long journey. If anyone needs breaks, let me or RKO know. Watch your backs, you know the drill. Let's go!"

It was the usual saying she gave whenever they had a raid. Randy did it sometimes, but mostly she did because he didn't feel comfortable with speeches. It was a way to get everyone fired up for the raid. This was the perfect distraction since Emery couldn't forget about a certain green-eyed man lately. Usually, Randy would be sitting at his laptop, or sprawled out on a bed, naked and smoking cigarettes and pot. Tonight, he was sprawled, naked, with just the cigarettes. Cheryl was trying to get him to quit.

"Hey Boss, you let me claim the final blow and I'll send you unsolicited pics." He joked, hearing his guildmates laughing. He bantered with her that way; Randy could do that, just not make speeches. He felt like a dork and stuttered whenever he tried.

"Are you… naked, playing World of Warcraft?!"

"Uh… yes?"

Emery laughed, overhearing Cheryl ask him that and seconds later, he logged off, feeling her jaw drop. She didn't blame him though; the woman was off her rocker and drowning in hormones right now. After the 4 hour raid finished, Emery was still wide awake and decided to look up tickets for Comic Con in Phoenix to get it over with. They had gone on sale earlier that day and it was only a few weeks away. She bought 4 tickets, one for her, Randy, Cheryl and Paul, hoping they could all make it. If not, she'd either eat the money she spent or sell them, which wouldn't be hard. With the tickets bought, fatigue finally set in as Emery shut her Alienware and trudged to her room, tears instantly filling her eyes at the loneliness that ensued.

Would this ever change?

* * *

It took forever to set this up and Mark would grudgingly admit these geeks knew their material. He had learned to appreciate the coding aspect, and the design, but still was never playing. Posing for pictures and image rendering had been interesting, but nothing new since he did the same thing for the WWE, so… he had been here before. But then Mark got to watch as he was 'customized' for the event. He smirked when the final footage of how the end of the event would play out.

One day only, battle to reach the boss, but only one user would be able to unlock the 'special ending'.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Staring in the mirror, Emery looked down at the mask in her hand and chewed her bottom lip, nodding at the outfit she chose for Comic Con. People dressed up as their favorite superheroes all the time and hers was Green Arrow. So, she had a short-sleeved dark green leather outfit made, top and bottom, the material clinging to her curves, matching boots on her feet. The mask was also green leather that sealed to her face once she put it on.

Emery pulled her hair back in a tight bun, so it was out of the way. Her eyes were rimmed in black and she had green lipstick painted on her lips, foundation on to hide any blemishes. There were also black gloves on her hands as well. Placing the mask on her face, Emery walked out to join her boys along with Cheryl. Randy and Cheryl were going as Hans Solo and Leia from Star Wars and Paul…she wasn't sure what Paul was, actually.

"Everyone ready to go?"

"Dude, I'm the Tick, you know?" Paul had tried explaining over and over, but apparently these jerks hadn't watched Fox Kids back in the 90's. He was wearing a blue outfit that covered him from feet to over his head, resembling the obnoxious superhero. "You guys suck…"

"We're ready."

"He's mad because I'm not wearing the slutty Leia costume."

"You'd be so hot…"

"I'd look like Jabba." Cheryl grunted, knowing she wasn't fat, but she sure did feel like it.

"If you say so, but to me you look like a huge blue condom." Emery laughed when Cheryl spit her water out she'd just taken a sip of and Randy was rolling on the floor howling.

"H-He does…" Randy rasped out, holding his stomach and groaned when Paul put him in a headlock. "You mother-"

"Language, boys." Emery wrapped her arm around his shoulders, kissing the top of Cheryl's head. "I'm taking your pregnant girl to the car. When you two are done, we really need to go." There was a special World of Warcraft tournament booth set up and it was one of the first places they were hitting up. Paul wasn't looking forward to it along with Cheryl, but it meant a lot to Randy and Emery since they had an actual guild.

"Think she suspects anything?" Paul asked once the women were outside of the hotel.

"No, now keep your mouth shut." They walked out to join the girls moments later and headed to Phoenix Comic Con.

Comic Con was awesome, as usual, and Randy felt like his eyes would pop out of their skull from trying to take in everything all at once. Cheryl elbowed him a few times when she felt he was looking just a little too long at some of the more… revealing costumes. There were booths, exhibitions, vendors, fans from every genre, every fandom; it was great.

"Hey, there's World of Warcraft."

"Hip-hip hooray." Cheryl teased, twirling a finger in the air.

"I don't get it either."

"Because you both suck and don't know what fun is." Emery remarked, looping her arm through Randy's and walked up to the booth, not seeing the secretive grins on Paul and Cheryl's faces. She'd already gotten a lot of compliments on her costume, which made Emery feel great and so had the others. "Oh wow, look at that!"

She pointed to one of the setups, pulling Randy over and started looking at it closely. Was this a new version of WoW coming out? She owed every single one of them, along with Randy, and looked up at him, seeing he was also interested. The moment she turned around, Randy was smirking like a Cheshire cat.

"Okay, so where's the special thing you pointed out to me on the game the other night?"

"Not a thing, an event, it was all over the game's main page and being scrolled through our chat boxes. Don't you ever pay attention?" Randy snorted, shaking his head and grabbed one of the flyers, eyeballing it. "One day, special event." He passed it over to her. "So, this is just a dungeon crawl with a boss battle?"

One of the men running the booth nodded, grinning. "Yeah, sort of. There are… exclusive prizes to this event, themed ones, but you won't know until you defeat the boss."

"Probably an ogre or something." A woman mused, standing beside them.

"Famous person actually, but you have to play to find out. And one lucky player gets a bonus prize."

"No shit?"

"Oh wow… only one?"

"Only one."

Emery didn't need to be told twice, though she was curious who the 'famous' person was, raising a brow at Randy's excitement. "Are you gonna do this with me?" She nudged him playfully, trying to get his competitive juices flowing.

"I'd never go against the Queen." Randy bowed to her, the gleam in his eyes telling her he knew something she didn't. Emery didn't notice it, however.

"Oh whatever." Emery took a picture with a little girl who walked up to her, loving her costume.

"Good luck! Remember, you have until 4 PM tomorrow afternoon to complete this. Your 24 hours starts now."

Nodding in understanding, Emery walked away with Randy, Paul and Cheryl, looking at the flyer with a soft smile. "You really should do this. Maybe you'd finally beat me, Boss."

"Not likely. Come on, we can finish up Comic Con and then you can go back to the hotel, chill out and do the dungeon."

"Baby, you love World of Warcraft, you should do it. You two can team up." Cheryl pointed out, walking with him. "Besides, the last special event took your whole guild to do, just to bring down that boss."

"Ah… yeah, good point." Randy was curious to play it and he already knew the 'extra' cutscene wouldn't trigger for him. Plus… it would be neat to hear Emery's reaction to everything. "Yeah fine, I'll buddy up with you."

Specialty items and experience weren't divided for this, so… it didn't matter.

After a fun-filled day at Comic Con, it was after 8 PM when they finally walked into the hotel suite. Everyone was bunking together and had their own rooms. Emery took a shower, washing the makeup from her face and put her costume in the special bag she brought it in. It would be used for other Comic Cons in the future as well. After changing into a pair of black pajama pants and a Kingdom Hearts tank top she'd bought at Comic Con, Emery left her hair down before pulling her laptop out to start the special event. The Dungeon of Darkness. That's what it was called.

"You ready, Randy?!" She called out, firing up the laptop and rubbed her hands together, feeling excited despite her feet killing her from all the walking they'd done.

"Hell yeah! Let's do this!"

The Dungeon of Darkness, the name had not been Mark's idea. The themed weapons and armor as special rewards for clearing levels, defeating the Boss, those had been his idea. With his permission and a sign-off from the boss, it had been allowed to be used. Standard crawler, from what they had told him, except décor had been themed. Monsters were also standard, but each level had a 'mini' boss: demonized Acolytes were right under the main and the first boss was a very terrifying ogre Viscera. In the game sound files were now recordings of his laughter, played for the crawlers at random intervals.

The moment the dungeon opened up with her character and Randy's side-by-side, Emery felt her eyes widen at the particular design. It was black and purple, a familiar symbol etched on the walls. What the hell was this? Emery decided to keep going, the smile on her face faltering and could feel her heart ache with pain. Since when was Mark interested in World of Warcraft? Maybe it was a mistake…maybe they'd just designed a specific 'special event' with someone who looked like and portrayed…no, no this was definitely Mark in all his Undertaker glory. For some reason, Emery continued and didn't say much to Randy while they braved the dungeon. She didn't realize it, but her palms were sweaty and her stomach twisted violently.

"They did an Undertaker themed special event?" Randy whined, knowing he had a role to play. A small part of him was a little jealous because this had been a great idea on Mark's behalf, but… Mark wasn't a player of the game. They needed to use lots of gold and Randy Orton, he'd make a bad ass demon boss. "Oh…boss fight, look…" Viscera AKA Mabel… and he looked a hell of a lot creepier in game than in real life.

Frowning, Emery didn't understand what was going on, but kept trekking along, Randy's assertion making her feel very uneasy. "I-I guess…" She muttered in the headset, eyes focused solely on the screen and had her character dive to miss the…was Viscera an ogre in this?! "Holy shit, watch out!" She shouted, dodging another blow that would've killed her character.

She couldn't die – Emery was the Queen and had a reputation to uphold!

Searching the walls for a weapon to use against ogre Viscera, Emery spotted the lever on the wall in the corner of the screen. "Randy, go for the lever while I distract him!" It was an order, her breathing erratic.

"Wait, WHAT? Emery, that's…fucking brilliant." Randy spotted it as well, smoking his cigarette and moved his character toward the lever, cringing when ogre Viscera roared angrily. "Oh shit, he spotted me, Em!"

That was fine, it was all the distraction she needed as she took her sword and cut Viscera off by the knees, knowing he wouldn't be walking or healing for a while. "I got him! Go!" Her character dodged out of the way again when the monster tumbled back to land on his big backside, making the screen shake for a second.

Pulling the lever, Randy and Emery both dodged through the door that closed shut, a gate full of sharp edges dropping down seconds later to splatter Viscera.

"I got to admit, this is brilliant." Cheryl said from a different room, sitting with Paul.

They had linked the big screen television to the laptop, so they could see what Randy was doing, and talk, without Emery overhearing them by accident or ingesting Randy's smoke. She was glad he had given up the pot, but he pointblank refused to stop playing World of Warcraft, naked and without cigarettes. Cheryl figured one thing at a time and took a handful of popcorn, munching on it.

"Taker is a genius."

"If he was a genius, he wouldn't have lost her in the first place. Next level, boss fight at the end of this dungeon will be the Acolytes…" This level was a lot of fire. "Uh, purgatory?"

"Is that…?"

"The Acolytes, fuck! It's two-on-two and they look fucking SCARY." Randy got chills, mystic blues wide and couldn't believe the amount of design Taker put into this.

"SHIT!" Emery had to drink a potion quickly, not dodging Bradshaw's attack in time. Luckily, it didn't kill her. She breathed a sigh of relief, moving her character around to get a feel for each of them. They had to have a weakness as the fire began erupting around them. "Uh Randy – RANDY?! Is that a fire wall headed towards us?!"

"OH FUCK!"

"Are you kidding me?! We have a time limit on this!?" Emery groaned, knowing if she pulled her gaze away from the screen once, it would be over and she wouldn't win. Not an option. "Okay, take Bradshaw and I'll take Farooq!"

"Got it!"

"Now… explain this to me?" Cheryl asked, still not having a clue what was going on.

"From my understanding, most dungeons and events, people go in groups. Like once, there was a boss that was nearly impossible to defeat due to a glitch. And guilds and players teamed up around the clock worldwide to keep battling to get the damn thing down." Paul explained, knowing he probably didn't make sense, but it was the best he could do.

"Real world time and… everywhere?"

"Yep. So… these two, going by themselves, might not pay off, but they're good. It also depends on if the difficulty is set at a permanent stat or if it's variable, so… it would change depending on how many players are in the current event."

"Well it can't just be there two."

"No, it's not. But they didn't buddy up with anyone else so… if they had brought their guild, we'd see a lot more players. But this is their session. Other sessions are going on at the same time."

"Will Randy get to see the bonus content?"

"I have no idea how that works other than its tied to her ID."

It took over an hour – AN HOUR – to finally bring the Bradshaw and Farooq monsters down, thanks to the beer cans that swung like pendulums from the ceiling. That cracked Emery up. Whoever designed this special event was brilliant and had her laughing while trying not to die. Randy was howling with laughter too, both of them thoroughly enjoying themselves. Now it was back down to business and they had one boss left. Emery's jaw dropped when she seen who it was and fought back tears, swallowing hard. The final boss was the Undertaker himself. Even in the screen, he looked delicious and it killed Emery to play this, the hole in her chest pulsating with agony.

"Em, are you alright?" Randy asked hesitantly through the headset, hearing her silence and hoped she wasn't about to log off.

"Yeah…I'm fine." That was a lie. This was torture – World of Warcraft and the Undertaker all wrapped in a beautiful heartbreaking package. "Let's do this." She wouldn't stop now and pushed her pain to the side to focus on the game.

"So, he really posed for that?" Cheryl asked, watching as a very demonic looking Undertaker attacked the players. The damn beast was ten times the size of them and his weapon was a giant Trident looking thing in the shape of his old symbol, his eyes emitting purple smoke that wafted to the ground, constantly draining energy from the players.

"I hope they saved the recordings of it… I would pay big money to see that."

"Hey, I finally get to remove his ugly head from his fat neck. Hell yes!" Randy crowed from one of the rooms.

"Randy, your left! Fuck, I hate this goddamn energy draining bullshit!" Emery growled, not amused that she had to use over 20 panacea bottles in order to restore her strength. This boss was probably one of the hardest she'd fought in WoW, which was saying something. "Fuck! Randy, I got you!"

She tossed him a panacea bottle to take while distracting the demonic Undertaker monster and narrowed her eyes at the screen, sliding between his legs to make him slowly turn to face her again.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Taking her sword and launched it like a dart at a board, slicing right through his eye as blood poured. It wasn't red blood though, dark purple ooze and she ripped her sword out of it, knowing they had him weak. His health had depleted to half with that shot, now it was just a matter of using magic spells, which was Randy's specialty.

"NAIL HIM, RANDY!"

"Don't ever say that to me again, ever!" Randy growled, cigarette clenched between his lips as he began casting, eyes darting all over his screen. "Keep attacking, I'm keeping him from restoring energy and mana."

His character would die and that was alright with him. He knew him being with her meant her ID would trigger the special ending for them both. Whatever the special ending for normal players was, he was curious, but… he'd find it on YouTube later.

"Mad props for this…" He muttered, watching his character kick the bucket. "Dick bag!"

"And off goes the television." Cheryl shut it off, curious about the 'special ending' to the event her and Randy just won.

Her mage was gone and Undertaker's bar was blinking red. Emery knew one final hit was all it would take to bring him down and went in for the kill. She nailed demonic Undertaker in the chest with her sword and watched him fall back in slow motion before dissolving in a purple ooze.

"Holy fuck…that was intense…"

She didn't take her headset off yet, remembering there was more to this after the final boss was defeated. Taking a long swig of her bottled water, Emery watched the screen flash several times, as if it was glitching out and raised a slow brow, her eyes widening at what came on next. It was him, rendered in 3D and made to look like a World of Warcraft version of himself. This version was a lot smaller than the boss she had just faced, and less demonic, his eyes a vivid emerald green.

"Feel better, my Queen?" All the dialogue was pre-scripted, but the amusement in his tone had been picked up during the recording. "Slaying me had to of relieved some of your anger." He lowered himself to his knees, legs spread apart, his arms resting on his thighs as he stared at her through the screen. "I'm sorry Emery, for everything. I wish I could take back all those things I said and did, but I can't." Mark looked away for a moment before turning back towards her, his face beginning to be zoomed in on. "I did this all for you, my Queen, in the hopes that… you'll forgive me and come home." Home being his arms and they were opened wide now, as if to embrace her. "Come back to me, let's start over." Then, he smirked wickedly. "And congratulations on winning the Event." He winked at her before the credits rolled.

Tears slid down her cheeks the moment he came on the screen and Emery couldn't pull her eyes from the bonus content. Mark had…made this entire special event for her. Knowing her love for this game, he'd managed to put all of this together…for her. All to beg her to come back to him…home. How she longed for his arms. It killed her not to be with him, to walk away after the Last Man Standing match against Batista and start her life over, partially.

Taking her glasses off, Emery buried her face in her hands and cried harder than she ever had in her life, not knowing what to do. She loved him and felt complete when she was with him. Could they really make this work? The past would always come back to haunt them and that's what she was afraid of. It was the sole reason she left the WWE. Truthfully, Emery had said some rotten things to him as well and none of it could be taken back, but she'd already forgiven him…and apparently he forgave her.

So, did she follow her heart or her brain?

After the credits rolled, it returned to her character screen, displaying the loot she had acquired and experience gained. It flashed the words: The Undertaker's Heart: Auto-Equipped at her. Her character now wore an in-game pendant of his symbol in black over a purple heart. Stats were minimal, just a 10% bonus to life and defense.

 **IDK yet, she hasn't come out.** Randy was out in the main room, texting Mark.

Well that couldn't be good. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

If only that pendant was real, she would wear it every day because her heart belonged to him as well. It always had. Emery wiped her tears away and slid her glasses back on her face, slowly sliding out of bed. Randy and Paul knew about this…Randy especially. Did Cheryl? Randy had been the one to point out the 'special event' advertised during one of their raids before Comic Con. Then the flyer…Mark had spent a lot of money to make this happen, that much was obvious. Emery couldn't get over he'd done it all for her. Opening the door, she stepped out as all eyes turned to face her and walked over to Randy, her face stoic. Then she hugged him tightly, fresh tears falling down her face.

"Thank you." She whispered, feeling his arms around her and slowly pulled back to cup his face in her hands. "Where is he?"

"Uh…" Randy's ears were turning bright red and he flushed further under all the eyes on him. "Well… hold on." He removed himself from her hold and picked up his phone, waiting a few seconds, then cleared his throat. "Answer the door, Emery."

Mark was behind said door, really hoping he wasn't about to get slapped in the face or something. He had gone to the extremes for this… maybe it was to grand a gesture? Hijacking her game…

Sky blues turned from Randy to the front door of their suite. He was here in Phoenix. One door separated them just like before in WWE…the door to her secret and lies. It felt like each step she took to get to the door took forever, every step a memory of them flashed through her mind. Their first official meeting, the sharpie incident and calling her DC – her calling him Neanderthal. Destroying her Kingdom Hearts t-shirt, destroying his prized motorcycle with Randy's help. His first visit to her house in Sedona, shocking her, the game they played together, the kiss that started the fire currently raging inside of her.

The fighting, the lovemaking, especially their first time…how he'd tortured her for hours before giving her what she ultimately craved. The hair pulling and spankings…the softer times where they'd lay in bed talking, completely naked and unashamed. Mark was the only man she had let herself go with…shown who she really was. Through all the pain and suffering they inflicted on each other, love remained somehow, someway. Each step mended a piece of her heart and when her hand landed on the handle, trembling, Emery closed her eyes, took a deep breath in and opened it.

"Oh… it's like watching a movie on Lifetime…" Cheryl whispered, dabbing at her eyes.

All three of them were watching Emery walk to that door, obviously dazed and, when Emery's shaking hand reached for the handle, they all held their collective breath.

Mark stood there once the door was opened, dressed in a simple pair of blue jeans and a black thermal shirt, his hair down, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Green met blue and he could see it all in her eyes, opening his arms to her.

Without a word or second thought, not a single hesitation, Emery wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. Instantaneously, the pieces of her shattered heart began piecing back together and her world felt complete being with him, in his arms. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but there was plenty of time for that later. Feeling him lift her to where her feet left the ground and her arms draped around his neck, Emery kissed him softly before resting her forehead against his.

"I love you, Mark." She'd never told him and the last confession didn't count because they'd torn each other apart.

This time, she wouldn't make that mistake again.

"I love you too, darlin," He whispered, brushing his nose along hers.

Cheryl was outright crying now.

Sighing, Randy got up to go close the door, flashing Mark a thumbs up over Emery's shoulder before shutting it.

Snorting, Mark just rolled his eyes, not pulling away from the woman he was holding. "Want to get out of here, darlin'?"

Nodding, Emery didn't care about anything else at the moment and knew her friends would take care of her belongings. She felt him walk down the hallway and moved her head to bury in his neck, his scent intoxicating her. Never again did she think or believe she would smell it. A few minutes later, she heard the door click shut followed by him sitting down, her legs now straddling him. Lifting her head to stare in his eyes again, Emery caressed the contours of his face with her fingertips, waiting for the dream to end. It was him, this was real and so was the incredible gift he gave her. Now Emery felt horrible about tearing the comic books up he'd had made for her during her week binge on alcohol and Twinkies.

"You said you wanted to start over…in the game." At his nod, she pulled back a little to rest her hands on his shoulders, caressing every part of his body she could. "What did you mean by that, exactly?"

His eyes crinkled with his smile as he recalled when she had done that. He had gone to visit her house in Sedona and she had sat down by him, held out her hand and introduced herself. Mark moved her off of him, setting her on the bed and kneeled down, extending his.

"I'm Mark." Fresh start, a do-over. "No more lies, no more violence from me, none of it. We start fresh, Emery. We already know the worst about each other, now let's get to know the best."

That memory was one of her favorites, one she'd thought about over the past 2 months being away from him. Now, he was doing it and it made her heart pound just a little faster. Emery would never lie to him again, refusing to lose him and slid her hand into his much larger one, smiling softly.

"It's nice to meet you, Mark. I'm Emery." She recalled what he'd said about her name being for a boy and she'd corrected him. "I swear to you; no more lies will come from me. Just the truth, but the violence part…" Her eyes grew a little darker, her hand slipping out of his to run up his chest. "There were some things you did I actually liked that were considered violent. And I want to explore more of that side of myself with you."

He rolled his eyes at her, grunting. "Darlin', I meant me laying hands on you." Honestly, Mark hadn't considered using a sleeper hold on her to be violent, but given her reaction to it… he knew she had, which made him reevaluate his opinion. "Like that hold. In the bedroom…" His voice dropped to a rough, dark growly rasp. "Your ass belongs to me."

She shivered at that tone, nodding and understood the meaning behind his words. The sleeper hold had scared the living hell out of her. Emery was surprised she didn't have a heart attack waking up after being put out like that. Complete trust and love shone in her eyes back at him, meaning what she said. She was no longer afraid of him and wanted him in every possible way she could think. Her eyes instantly went to his side, remembering the broken rib and pressed her fingers against where the injury had taken place. He didn't flinch or wince, so that told her it had healed. Just to make sure, she pressed a little harder a second time.

"Whatever you do to me, I trust you and I know you won't hurt me, not really."

"Okay woman, enough of that." He growled, grabbing her hand away from his ribs. "I'm cleared to go back to work next week, but shit is tender." Mark had resumed training, ahead of schedule. If she was thinking about getting laid, she'd be riding him and he grinned at the idea, hands moving to her hair. "I love you, Emery." Mark declared softly, drawing her towards him for a kiss.

She moaned softly, sliding her hands up to rest on his broad shoulders and slowly broke the kiss. "I was worried about you. And I love you too."

Emery would never be able to say it enough or hear it enough to where it drove her insane. It would be tough for them to make a relationship work with him on the road working all the time, but somehow they would figure it out. She didn't want to think about him leaving since it was a week away.

"No sex until you're completely healed." Pressing a finger against his lips before he could argue, Emery took his hands and guided him back to the bed, pushing him down gently. "Just lay with me and hold me tonight, please."

Having no intentions of arguing, these last few weeks had been hell. That modeling and voice gig for the World of Warcraft event, constantly on the phone with those people who did the coding and creating. Then being annoyed all the time by Randy and Paul… yes, he was tired and laying here with Emery in his arms was his idea of heaven.

"No arguments from me, darlin'." Mark yawned, pulling her down against him, instantly rolling so he could pull her into his body. "What'd you think of the event?"

"Exhilarating and hard. You did well with the creation. I loved it. By far, my favorite thing I've played in World of Warcraft." Emery could feel him sag against her and knew he was exhausted, feeling his mouth press a soft kiss to her neck and head. "Thank you…that topped the comic books." Comic books she had destroyed because of heartbreak, pain and anger, but Mark didn't need to know about that right now. "Get some sleep, Deadman."

Yawning herself, Emery had no more strength in her body and closed her eyes, instantly falling asleep. It was the first night's sleep she'd gotten without crying and it felt amazing. Mark watched her fall asleep and couldn't believe she actually forgave him, rubbing his nose against her hair breathing her in. Never again would he let her go, no matter what he had to do. He could hear her soft steady breathing and knew she'd fallen asleep, joining her moments later.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

The following day, Emery was not surprised to discover Randy had taken Cheryl home for the rest of their days off and Paul had vacated as well. She asked Mark to come home with her to Sedona and he responded by kissing her breathless, not having any plans to leave her yet. After they talked everything out in a longer conversation, Emery came clean about the comic books and Mark simply waved her off dismissively. He wasn't angry about them, understanding why she destroyed them.

It was the final day before Mark had to go back on the road and they hadn't made love yet, though Mark had gotten clearance the previous day about his injury. She meant what she said; no sex until after he was healed. Surprisingly, Mark complied and hadn't tried anything with her sexually, just stuck with holding her at night and kisses. It felt like they were actually dating and taking things slow, starting over from scratch. Currently, they were sprawled on the couch with her laying on top of him and the television was on in the background for noise purpose.

"I'm gonna miss you." She kissed his chin, rubbing her mouth against his goatee and then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Are you excited to go back?"

If Emery was surprised by his amicable agreements to no sex, he didn't think she should be. Mark wasn't jeopardizing his official return to the ring. He had been doing promos and whatnot these past few weeks, but that was about it. He had make sure people knew he was still lurking, keep that finger on the pulse so to speak. David was returning soon apparently as well, but as far as he knew, the other man was going to mind his business and manners from here on out.

"Yeah, I'm ready to get back to kicking ass." He admitted with a smile, always having a deep raw passion for chaos and violence. "Now darlin', I did put in for a lighter schedule. I'll do the full tours when it comes to Europe and WrestleMania, but… from here on out, I'll be doing just Smackdown and pay-per-views, along with promotional shit every now and then." He wasn't a spring chicken anymore.

"You come see me when you have time, Mark. Don't worry, I can keep myself entertained and I know you have other obligations besides me." His kids, for example. "That's what the phone is for anyway. We can talk and maybe I'll even get you back on World of Warcraft." She giggled at his growly 'no' and nuzzled his chest, enjoying the tranquility that washed over both of them. "I'll be going back to work soon. Just gotta figure out what I wanna do, which I will. So I'll be busy too."

Winking up at him, Emery rubbed her nose against his gently while caressing his side. He was bare from the waist up and it was both sexy and relaxing at the same time. They would figure things out as the days passed by.

"Why not get involved in games?" He yawned, this was just too relaxing, laying with her, threading his fingers through her hair. "You could probably help develop the stories and all that…" She did love her games.

"Gaming is fun and if I do that for a job, I'll get burned out on it."

Even Emery knew when there was too much of a good thing and she didn't want to warp her mind either. It'd been warped enough with the WWE fiasco that nearly cost her the love of her life. Mark hadn't mentioned his kids to her and Emery was fine with it, not needing to delve into that part of his life. They were together and would see each other whenever he could visit. That was just the way things would be. Maybe down the road Emery would want more, but then again she already had his heart and it was enough. She would never, ever admit this to Mark, but Emery did miss her job at the WWE.

"So come back to the WWE." It was almost as if he read her mind. "You can't have your old job back. Cheryl is enjoying it too much." He snorted, knowing she was enjoying leading the writing team. "But doesn't mean you wouldn't have a spot." Mark doubted Vince would give her a position in any tier of management ever again. Too many problems, even if they weren't all her fault. "Or be my… personal assistant." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Oh yeah, sure. Personal assistant meaning I'd be distracting you so badly, you'd miss half your matches." Emery joked, shaking her head and nipped his bottom lip lightly. "I do miss the WWE, but…no." Batista would be there and Emery never wanted to see him again, if she could help it. She would never forget what he did to her and hated him far more than she did Mark, even after he wrote with sharpie on her forehead. "I left and put it behind me. I'll figure something out, even if I have to take a regular boring 9-to-5 job somewhere here."

Mark openly snorted at that one, letting her know just what he thought about that. "Sure darlin', send me pictures… I want to know how you do with a 9-to-5." Insurance, benefits, same boring crap day in and day out and she'd lose her mind. He'd give it… 2 months, tops. "Don't be too hasty, turning down that personal assistant offer. I might not make it again." He teased, knowing her being his personal assistant was actually kind of offensive, given her former position. "Darlin'." Mark sat up, moving her so she was straddling his lap. "Why not open up a comic book and game shop?"

It was her turn to snort. "You're kidding me, right? I don't want to do anything that involves games or comic books because that's fun to me. That's my escape from real life. I know wrestling is your passion and you could never imagine yourself doing anything else in your life. I just don't have that…type of passion for games and comic books. I love them, but they're also my escape." Emery probably didn't make a lick of sense to him, but in her mind it was understood perfectly. "A regular 9-to-5 might be just what I need. Something normal…no stress or being tricked to do something I don't want to do." She shrugged nonchalantly, feeling him press a kiss to her forehead. "Besides, I refuse to do that to Frankie." Comic book stores and even gaming stores these days had TOUGH competition because of the internet stores like Amazon and eBay. "And being your personal assistant just doesn't set well with me. I don't want to work with you in any capacity after what happened, no offense. I love you, but the WWE needs to stay out of our relationship completely."

Hadn't he said that before? Professional and personal didn't mix, at all. Shrugging, he decided to let her handle it, she'd sort it out. Mark figured running a comic book and game store would be fun for her, a way to indulge her hobby, as well as have insider access to anything she wanted.

"Agreed. Now go cook me dinner, woman." He ordered, receiving a well-placed sock to his jaw for that one, laughing. "It was a joke!"

"Uh huh."

Sliding from his lap, Emery sauntered into the kitchen wearing black cotton shorts and a red tank top. It was too hot this time of year, even with the central air kicking. Turning her radio on, Emery began making spaghetti – something simple and filling. She would miss Mark when he left in the morning, but at the same time, her life had to be pieced back together after what the WWE did to it. Halfway through cooking, Emery's cell rang and it was Cheryl, crying her eyes out.

"Cheri, what's wrong?"

"T-The baby…" Cheryl sobbed, feeling Randy's hand on her back rubbing it. "S-Something's wrong, Em…"

Mark rushed into the kitchen as Emery held her hand up in a one second gesture, her eyes widening with every word that came out of Cheryl's mouth. "Oh my god…" Leaving the kitchen, Emery began pacing in the living room, nodding. "Uh huh right…so you're not gonna be able to travel until after the baby's born, is what you're telling me?"

"Y-Yeah…I already called Vince and…Emery…"

"No. NO! I'm not doing it, no Cheryl. Get someone else. I can't…I can't go back there. My life was torn to shreds, I nearly lost Mark – no scratch that – I DID lose Mark for a while! How can you expect me to go back after everything that happened?"

"Emery, nobody else can do this." Cheryl's voice had grown stronger. "I need you to do this, please. Mark will have to understand…"

"No, Mark is not gonna understand a damn thing because I'm not doing it." If she went back into the lead writer's position, their relationship would be in shambles all over again. "I can't, Cheri, I'm sorry…"

Taking the phone from her, Mark placed a hand on Emery's head to stop her from trying to take it back. He had already gotten the text from Randy. "She'll think on it." He hung up, eyeing her. "It's temporary, Emery, and it's not going to have any effect on our relationship." When she began shaking her head, he sighed. "Em… she needs you. Placenta previa is no joke. She won't be able to travel and need to be monitored constantly." He bent down, staring into her eyes intently. "What are you afraid of, darlin'?"

"That is a dumbest question you've ever asked me, Calaway. You KNOW damn well what I'm afraid of!"

Emery understood Cheryl's condition could be fatal to the baby if she wasn't on strict bedrest for the duration of her pregnancy, but why did it have to be her? Why couldn't they pick someone else from the writing team to take her place temporarily?

"What if I go back and…and things fall apart because you don't like something I write for your character?! Or what if Batista tries to…"

She was having a panic attack and suddenly dropped on her backside right in front of him to put her head between her legs. Breathing in and out as slow as she could, tears stinging her eyes. The pain she felt when her and Mark ended last time…Emery wouldn't be able to handle the heartbreak and agony a second time around.

"Woman, slow the fuck down." Mark dropped down before her, cupping his hands over her face to help her breathe in her own air. "Now, first, you ain't writing for me at all. That was something Vince had to add to my contract a while ago. You are not to have any say in my business." It wasn't because he didn't like her lines, but because he was trying to keep business and pleasure separate. "And anything the other writers try, I get final say. As for Batista, if he comes near you, he's going to have three pissed off men out to kill him."

Emery just kept breathing, feeling nauseous about this entire situation and nodded to let Mark know she heard him. She didn't blame him either for putting that stipulation in his contract. It went for all the writers, not just her. Batista had really scared her with the kidnapping and ether overdose though. He could've killed her had Mark not known what to do. Stepping back into this company…Emery couldn't make a decision right now, not this fast.

She heard her phone go off and ignored it, already knowing who it was. Vince wanted an answer and she wasn't ready to give him one yet. Cheryl had told him she was the best replacement option since the other writers didn't know their heads from their asses, which she was inclined to agree with. They were a herd of sheep and her and Cheryl had been the shepherds of the flock. Her worst fear, above all, was losing Mark after just getting him back and starting their relationship over.

Mark let her be, helping out in the kitchen to salvage supper. She had been halfway into it when Cheryl called and now it was a little… iffy. When Emery tried to take over, he bumped her away with his hip. He was taller and bigger, he did it gently so she didn't go flying.

"Just… sit down, have a drink. I got this, darlin'." He ordered, knowing her mental state had gone out the window for the evening.

The sauce had burned on the bottom a little bit because the heat on the stove was too high, but other than that it was fine. "You gotta boil the water for the noodles next."

Emery felt like her world was unraveling all over again because of WWE, frowning while sitting down at the table. She did not drink whiskey of any kind anymore, but…wine was a necessity. Pouring Mark a glass as well, she drained the first glass and then poured another one, feeling the edge slowly tapering.

"I don't have a choice in this, do I?" It was more of a statement than a question, her eyes remaining lowered. "Was that Vince that called?"

"No." He said flatly, scowling at the pan.

No shit the noodles had to be boiled! Granted, he wasn't a natural in the kitchen, but he had nuked himself Ramen's before… same principal here, but with a stove. Mark wasn't about to tell her he had a text from Randy, not a call. He still wasn't sure why Orton considered him a member of their little posse, but the man did.

"You have a choice Em, but if you do it, remember you're making that choice. Don't go in a martyr."

"Since when do you call me Em?" She couldn't remember the last time he called her that, raising a brow at his scowl. Randy, Paul and Cheryl did, but never Mark. "Whoa, back up!" Emery shoved him away from the stove and turned the heat down, jumping back when the water overflowed out of the pot and nearly missed her hand by a second. "Mark, darling, I love you, but get the hell out of my kitchen or sit at the table."

Now she was annoyed for several reasons, pulling holders on her hands to grab the pot and put it in the sink. Filling it up with water all over again after turning the heat down on the sauce. How did this man survive whenever he was at home by himself, she wondered, deciding not to voice that out loud.

Parking his backside at the table, Mark finished both their wine glasses, frowning. "What the fuck, Emery? It's just like those packets of noodles, right? Boil 3 minutes and done? And I call you Em, since Orton doesn't use your actual name." He wasn't amused when she began laughing, not sure which part she found funny. Mark might spank her bottom until it was as red as that sauce.

"Oh Deadman…my poor, sweet, man." Emery couldn't help laughing at him, shaking her head and pointed at the box of spaghetti noodles. They were even labeled that. "You have to boil the water and then pour the noodles in. It takes about 10 minutes before they are done, then you take one out, test it by eating it to make sure it's slick enough and soft. It's right here on the box." She could see his ears turning red and bit her bottom lip, proceeding to put the pot back on the stove to start boiling the water again. "Just let me handle it. I think we're gonna start giving you cooking lessons when you come to see me."

If she decided not to take this job with the WWE…again.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

"I don't even think so, if I can't nuke it, or eat it out of a can, I'm not interested." He drawled, his ears still bright red. Leaning back in his chair, Mark surveyed her, beginning to smirk. "Maybe I oughta just marry you and keep you locked in my kitchen. Won't have to ever worry about it then, will I?" Just to see her startled movements and, the way her face turned red then white, was so worth it. "Not funny?"

"W-WHAT?! No! No that's not funny at all!"

This man was out to give her a stroke, Emery was convinced and had to calm herself down all over again. Marriage was not even…she hadn't even THOUGHT about the possibility. Mark had recently gotten his divorce finalized and he was in a relationship with her.

"I – um – I don't think that's – now's not the time to discuss something like that." Stammering over her words just solidified how WRONG that 'joke' was. Emery stirred her sauce and immediately leaned back against him as soon as she felt his strong arms encircle her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. "What would you do if you were in my shoes, Mark?"

"Well darlin', the way you're stuttering and stammering tells me you're taking it as more than a joke." He measured her and how she had reacted. If Mark had been serious about marriage, he wouldn't have done it in a kitchen and had a bit more romance in him than that. "I don't know, darlin', you don't want to go back, so don't. Stephanie can come take over for a bit." Vince's daughter.

"You caught me off guard with that, fucker." Emery grinned up at him, leaning her head back enough to accept a soft kiss from him and shook her head. "It's not that I don't want to go back. I'd love to go back and write for the company again. I'd love to travel with you and spend more time with you. There's a lot of pluses to go with this decision. But I'm also scared someone will come after me again like Batista. I made a lot of enemies with my lines from the past and I just don't wanna cause any more trouble." Stephanie would do a piss-poor job and Emery knew it, which is why Cheryl begged her to take the position. "I also don't want to rely on you, Randy and Paul to save my ass should something happen."

"Well, you're just going to have to suck it up and rely on us until you get some self-defense classes under your belt. No point in your learning wrestling shit, or submission holds, that requires strength you don't have." He pointed out the obvious. "I can bring an instructor to train you in self-defense, darlin'. Train on the road." Mark buried his face in her throat. "Come back with me, my Queen."

It was incredibly hard to focus on cooking when he did that and Emery closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his goatee and lips brushing against her neck. "You're not making this easy to turn down…" She murmured, knowing that's exactly why he was doing it and sighed softly, not wanting to be away from him. "Alright." Making this decision based off of her relationship probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but Mark was the sole reason she would return to the WWE. "I want you to do it. You don't have to show me wrestling holds, but…I want you to teach me how to defend myself if I'm ever attacked." The armbar she already knew how to do and would've dropped Batista with it at Backlash if it wasn't for her instincts kicking in to nail him in the genitals first. "I should call Vince and let him know…" Then she had to pack for the road. "And Cheryl…"

"First off, I'm not teaching you anything, Emery. You need someone who knows how to train a woman your size to use her advantages. I'm not that guy and I won't risk harming you." Not happening. "Second, tell Vince you want to do a telecommute, so you'll be available online and through your phone, physically on location when I am. That'll also lessen your issues with Batista. You could even start taking classes for self-defense here in Sedona. I'm sure there is a taekwondo or karate teacher in the area. Third, I think you uh… boiled the water for the noodles to death." Mark peered in the pot affirmingly. "We can order out. Or we can go out, we haven't done that, have we?" He thought about it, pretty sure they hadn't.

"Fine, I'll do some research on karate studios or self-defense classes. That's a good idea too regarding Vince with the job. And I guess I suck at cooking too." Though, in her defense, he HAD been very distracting, not that she was complaining. "You wanna go out to eat? Want me to show you off?" She winked, shivering at the smirk curving his lips and turned the stove off completely, giving up on cooking. "Fine, let me get my sandals. Go get a shirt on and we'll go."

A few minutes later, they walked out of the house together and hopped into her truck before driving off. It wasn't nearly as big as a Silverado, but Emery didn't like small cars, preferring something with horsepower. While Mark drove, Emery made the call to Vince with the stipulations set in stone. She didn't trust Batista or anyone in the company besides Randy, Paul and her boyfriend. Vince instructed her to come to his office once she arrived at the arena tomorrow so they could sit down to sign her contract. Just as she hung up with him, Mark pulled into a diner and they hopped out, walking in together before being seated. Everything was set; Vince already had her plane ticket bought and it was waiting at the airport for her. Somehow, he'd gotten her the same flight as Mark as well. Vince was slick, Mark personally thought, as he browsed the menu, occasionally glancing across the table at Emery. She was gnawing her bottom lip between her teeth and he knew she was still a little anxious about this decision.

"Darlin', just make sure you read the fine print so you're not locked into a multi-year contract. This is temporary." He suggested soothingly, unless she wanted to change that after getting into a routine. Vince's slickness came in giving her everything she had demanded and he knew why: she was the best, pure and simple. A little… dense sometimes when it came to the actual wrestlers, but he had a feeling she wouldn't be that way anymore. "Darlin', can I offer you some advice?" At her nod, he cleared his throat. "From here on out, don't just write lines and expect everyone to fall in line. Approach the people involved and discuss it with them. Having everyone onboard before these things are set in stone would go a long way to getting people over being mad at you."

"I planned on it. No more running and hiding behind others. If I'm doing this, I'm doing it right this time around. I'm not going near Batista though, I'll have someone else deal with him."

It would be concrete in her contract before she signed anything. Emery would be reading every single word twice, not wanting any surprises. Vince could be very sneaky when he wanted to be and she didn't trust him at all. Mark didn't either and rightfully so.

"I know it's…childish to be afraid of him, but I can't help it." The man had broken into her home, kidnapped her while she was unconscious from consuming a massive amount of whiskey and then dosed her with ether to the point where she nearly died! Yes, she had a right to have a healthy fear of that mongrel. "Thank you…for helping me with this and giving me advice." Reaching across the table, she took his hand as their fingers laced together, smiling a little easier.

"You're welcome." Mark hid his surprise at that, having recalled a time or two in the past when Emery had been so cocky, so full of herself. Hell, he had been as well. Time, and their rough experiences, seemed to be mellowing them both out. Experience in general had taught them both some hard lessons and it was obvious they had learned and were applying them. "Emery… it's not silly. He broke into your house, kidnapped and drugged you. You'd be out of your mind to not be afraid." He was a bit apprehensive himself, but also figured if Batista so much as looked at her wrong, he'd have a nasty accident.

After what happened to her, how could she be cocky and arrogant? Emery wasn't the same woman she used to be and it was obvious. Sure, she was cocky when it came to winning video games and on WoW, but the WWE had taught her a very hard lesson about life. Mark had pinpointed her problem – she wasn't a people person. She didn't know how to deal with people and, maybe it was stupidity on her part, but Emery owed Matthew a debt of gratitude.

If it hadn't been for his sick mind games and videos he helped Batista with, that outed her, she never would've had that lesson and wouldn't be with the love of her life right now. Mark brought her out of her shell and made her feel confident as a woman; something not even Batista could destroy. After ordering a chicken salad, not in the mood for anything heavy, Emery sipped her ginger ale quietly, her mind wandering to what lay ahead for her and Mark on the road.

Mark had ordered himself a double of the daily special: spaghetti and meatballs and nearly died laughing. Couple sides of garlic bread and a salad, sweet tea… he was set. The look on Emery's face made him smile, really smile. It was like she didn't know whether to find him funny or toss her fork at him. He reached out to place his hand on top of hers, trapping that fork.

"I love you, Emery."

"Uh huh, sure you do." Emery shot back playfully, taking the fork away as her salad was brought out and thanked the waiter, pouring her honey mustard sauce all over it. There was no better dressing to use when it came to a chicken salad. "I love you too, now eat before you waste away." They ate in companionable silence, each in their own thoughts and Emery surprisingly finished the huge salad. After Mark paid for their meal, they left the diner and held hands on the ride back to her home. "You know, since we're going to be traveling together, you might as well leave some stuff at my place for when we come here. I know you'll have to go to Texas sometimes, but I don't mind if you have a drawer at my place. Just food for thought."

That was a lot of food for thought actually, having a designated drawer at her house. He had been in enough relationships to know that was a big deal. Having a toothbrush was one thing, especially when he spent the night, but a spot to put his belongings in and leave it was completely different.

"You trying to tell me something, darlin'?" He teased, clearing his throat to cover his awkwardness. "I'm telling you now woman, I need _two_ drawers."

"Okay, you can have two drawers. Or we can just get you a dresser for yourself." Emery didn't see the big deal considering they were in love, happy and spent all their free time together…well, mostly his. "It'd be a lot easier than you having to either buy new shit or bringing stuff from your place constantly." She wasn't in enough relationships to really understand what giving someone a drawer meant. Social awkwardness struck again. "Yeah, never mind, we'll just get you a dresser for yourself." Her room was kind of barren, so an extra dresser wouldn't make much difference.

She had no idea what she was signifying, at all. They had just jumped from a drawer to a dresser. "You're moving me in?" He blinked, eyes wide. "And I don't buy new shit all the time, I just keep washing whatever is in my bag until I go home." Unless Mark had skipped some washes, then it got thrown out and replaced. Maybe he did buy a lot. "Yeah, fine, a dresser."

"No – no I'm not moving you in. I'm just saying you can have a dresser at my place when you visit. It's not like I'm asking you to move all your shit in." Emery clarified, trying not to smile at his apprehension and folded her arms in front of her chest. "We live out of duffel bags and shit all the time on the road. Just figured you wouldn't have to do that if you had your own dresser." It was so nice to come home, when she did work for the WWE, and not have to worry about digging stuff out of a bag to wear. It was nice to have a dresser full of washed clean clothes to choose from, though most of hers was hung up.

"Darlin', you realize after over a decade of this lifestyle, it's pretty much normal to me, right?" Mark joked, sparing a look around the room.

He had a feeling he'd be here a lot more than usual, what with their reduced schedules. Mark began to smile, wondering if she'd realize he was for all intent and purposes, moving in. He'd go home, once a week for a few days, get in time with his kids if he could, come back to her. It could work.

Emery nodded, still not troubled by what she offered him and already knew where his dresser could go, digging in her dresser to pull clothes out. This was dropped on her suddenly and she had a sinking feeling this wasn't a temporary job. Once Cheryl had her baby, she probably wouldn't return to the company. This was her subtle way of giving Emery her job back without simply handing it over.

"Clothes, toothpaste, tooth brush, hair ties, brush…" She started listing things off in a mumble and slowly turned her eyes to see Mark staring at her. "Been a while since I've had to pack for the road. Just trying to remember everything." Then she began ticking stuff off her fingers again, mumbling.

Shaking his head, Mark went to rifle through his own belongings, deciding he really needed to wash his laundry and maybe clean out his bag. He carried the bag to her little laundry pantry and began dropping clothing into the washer, everything on cold, so no shrinkage. Grabbing the packing slip from the bottom of the bag, Mark eyeballed it and slipped it into his back pocket. End of the day his ass, it was already pushing 6. Not that it got dark early here; Arizona was sunny as hell. Emery had shredded those comic books… he knew because Orton had said as much. Having them replaced, and a new one to document their relationship since that last one, had been a bit costly, but he was ball's deep in these grand gestures, so…might as well continue.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

It took an hour before Emery was satisfied with everything she'd packed, knowing if she forgot anything, she could always hit up a local store in the area they were in. Zipping her bag up, she set it by the door, along with her laptop bag, refusing to leave her Alienware at home. She wouldn't use it for work; Vince had bought all new laptops for the writing team recently, so she'd leave her laptop at the hotel. It was hard to believe she was doing this, going back on the road and taking back her lead writer position.

She texted Randy to let him know her decision and Cheryl was ecstatic, but he wasn't allowing her to take any phone calls right now. No stress whatsoever – or the pregnancy wouldn't last and they would lose the baby. Padding down the hallway, Emery turned into the small laundry room and wrapped her arms around Mark's waist from behind, kissing his bare back. He'd taken his shirt off to wash it, which she found both amusing and sexy.

"Need some help?" She asked softly, sliding her hands up and down his abdomen and felt the slight abs against her fingertips he'd developed during his recovery.

"Not with my laundry, I got it." He rumbled, turning to wrap his arms loosely about her, smirking like a Cheshire cat. "Now, if you want to help me wash some other… things…"

Mark wiggled his black eyebrows at her, laughing, a deep thundering laugh, when she giggled. A shower, with her, definitely seemed in order, but before he could even think about suggesting it, the doorbell rang. Of course, it would come in NOW.

"Go get it." He ordered, swatting her backside as he nudged her away. "I'll wrap up here and then we'll discuss the possibility of bathing together."

Narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously, Emery kept the smile on her face and walked out of the laundry room, doing as she was told. She loved him ordering her around and had no idea why. It went back to the whole dominance quality Mark possessed. He didn't dominate every single aspect of her life, but when it came to certain things, she absolutely loved it. Opening the door, a package was given to her followed by the UPS man asking her to sign on his digital contraption. She scrawled her signature on it, thanked him and shut the door, looking down at the package with her name on it.

"I didn't order anything…"

Tilting her head, Emery went to the couch and sat down, beginning to open the package. It didn't come from GameStop, of course she was confused. Snickering, Mark disappeared out into the kitchen, making quick work of the mess they had left behind after that phone call from Cheryl and then abandoning the would-be supper. After tidying up and rinsing off dishes to be washed later, he refilled fresh wine glasses for them and headed back out to the living room, taking her in.

"They're not signed this time…"

Emery couldn't look up at him, staring down at the three comic books that were in plastic, pristine and completely redone. She had destroyed the ones he gave her and regretted it, never thinking he'd get them done for her again. Once again, he surprised her and went above and beyond the normal 'boyfriend' expectations.

"They're beautiful." She murmured, setting them down on the coffee table and tried like hell to blink her tears away, but a few did fall.

He sat down beside her, handing her the glass of wine and Emery snuggled against him, nuzzling his neck. It was time to give him her gift…something she had been working on for a while, even when they were together the first time. Standing, she set her glass on the coffee table and extended her hand.

"Come with me."

Mark wasn't the only one who had a surprise up his sleeve tonight.

She did too.

A bit curious, Mark speculated what she was up to and if it involved leather lingerie and silk rope, which in turn gave him a bit of a hard-on. He stopped Emery from leading him, reaching out to pull her against his rock hard body and tenderly kissed her, using a bit more restraint than he had thought he had. Her lips were soft and eager under his and he felt his own curving into a smile. When the kiss broke, he let her lead him again, feeling more than just a bit inquisitive.

Arriving at the door to her attached garage, which Mark had never gone in, Emery turned to him and the nervousness in her eyes returned. "I felt really bad about what I did to you when we first met. You destroyed a t-shirt that was $20 and I went overboard with the revenge on your bike. When we were first together, I started this project and…I just finished it right before Comic Con." Before his World of Warcraft special event surprise and getting back together with him. "A friend of mine and Frankie's actually did it…and while you went out to the gym yesterday, they brought it here. I was hoping to give this to you before you left tomorrow."

Opening the door, Emery took a deep breath and flipped the switch, revealing a beautiful custom-made Titan motorcycle. The color was a beautiful mixture of light blue and emerald green. If one looked close enough, they would see the different designs within the color such as the Blur logo, his wrestling symbol with the T and X spikes, glasses that signified her. Basically, the bike, like her comic books, showed their entire relationship and what they'd been through in a tasteful, manly way.

All Mark could do was stare at the motorcycle. It felt like hours had passed before he could move, just taking everything in. Finally, his bare feet shuffled forward until he was near the Titan and he began examining it in great detail, pretty much forgetting she was there as he took in everything. Custom made, the paint job, the little extras, he knew this had cost her a pretty penny. Emery had been working on it for months now, adding detail over time as their relationship went on, grew and fell apart. His eyes finally landed on a little etching, a tiny broken heart and knew that was also their… break-up, such as it was.

She had covered absolutely everything.

"Thank you." He finally whispered, voice hoarse with emotion.

Sky blues glittered with tears at his gratitude and the way his voice slightly trembled when thanking her. It was more than enough to stir the emotions up inside of her. "You're welcome." She whispered, not trusting her voice at the moment and leaned in the doorway jam, letting him thoroughly look over the Titan.

Mark had done so much for her, surprising her at every turn and it was a great feeling to know she could do the same thing. The comic books, the World of Warcraft special event that had been made specifically for her, him saving her life from ether poisoning and all the passion-filled, exhausting nights they'd spent in bed together…it all culminated and what their relationship was built on. From the moment he came to visit her and kissed her, even if it was to scare Cindy off, Emery had loved him. Hatred had gone along with that love, but in the end love truly won out. Honestly, she'd never done this for a man before, this big of a gesture, so Emery was extremely nervous to reveal this to him.

"I'm glad you like it. I…I didn't know if you would…"

"Hush, you're ruining my moment." Mark walked over to kiss away her tears before resuming inspection on the Titan, finally turning to face Emery. "Let's take it for a test drive, darlin'." All thoughts of everything else were gone. He wanted to take her out, on the motorcycle, and put it through its paces. Right now. "I want to try her out, with you."

The excitement in his eyes made her heart pound and she could only nod, looking down at what she was wearing. "You need a shirt then and I need jeans." Cotton shorts were NOT proper motorcycle riding attire, at all.

Mark was hot on her trail as well, needing to put a shirt on since he already had jeans. Pulling out a faded pair of skinny blue jeans, Emery slipped them on and looked down at the red tank top, shrugging, deciding to leave it. She had left her hair down throughout the day, but now it was time to braid it back since Mark wanted to really open his new toy up. Slipping her black steel toed boots on, Emery joined Mark in the garage about 20 minutes later and watched him admire the Titan in the doorway again.

"You ready to break her in?"

"Darlin', tonight I'm breaking you both in." He growled in a dark promise, snatching her up, devouring her mouth with his hungrily. Recovery time was over as far as Mark was concerned and it felt like ages since the last time they had been together in that manner. He was more than ready, willing and able to remedy this tragedy. "Come on, Queenie." He lifted her up onto the Titan, taking a step back to admire the view and let out a low whistle. "Delicious."

Her contacts were back in due to the fear of her glasses flying off during the ride, which had been the main reason why she took more time than necessary to get ready. "Looking forward to it, Deadman." Emery purred, patting the pure leather seat of the motorcycle and heard him growl again.

Once he mounted in front of her, her arms wrapped around his waist, the garage door already open and closed her eyes the moment he fired the Titan. It rumbled and roared, vibrating every portion of their bodies. All they'd had since reconciling was make out sessions, some more heavy than others, but Emery had been adamant about no sex due to his recovery. Now that he'd gotten clearance, she knew Mark wouldn't hold back and shivered with anticipation, kissing his t-shirt covered back. When they were on the road, Mark sped up a lot to open up the Titan and Emery squealed, enjoying the adrenaline rush.

Against his desires, he reigned it in, determined to take her through her paces. Custom built motorcycle… he shook his head, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the traffic. It wasn't too late, so… many people were making the commutes home. Mark headed towards the highway, beginning to smile as he remembered the first time he had taken Emery on a joyride. More like he had kidnapped her and taken her out to scare her. That hadn't gone as planned because she was a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

The sound this bike made was beautiful and the way it turned was flawless. Her friend had done an exceptional job on it. Emery would've taken it out of his ass if he hadn't considering how much she paid for it. Mark would never find that amount out either. From the moment they decided to be more than friends – friends with benefits exclusively – Emery began this project for him because she really did regret spray painting his custom motorcycle. Hopefully now, this one would completely make up for what she did. Releasing him, she stretched her arms in the air while he sped down the highway and enjoyed the wind whipping across the face, not a hint of fear on her face. It'd been so long since she did something like this and knew it was even better because of the company.

Given he knew how time consuming buffing out scratches and damage to a paint job, on top of redoing the detailing was… Mark definitely appreciated the fine craftsmanship on the paint job alone. He had fixed his Titan after the damage to it, spending quite a bit of his scarce free time doing it, but had never touched the bike since. On a clear stretch of highway, he gunned it, pushing the Titan to its speed limits and breaking point, hearing her laugh of delight ringing in his ears.

Emery had no idea how long they were on the road, but once he pulled into the driveway of her house, the ride had unfortunately ended. Both had to be up at an ungodly morning hour for their flight to Raw. They definitely had to do this more often on their days off because she loved riding with him. Only him. She slid her hands up his back to his shoulders and back down, looking around at where they were. He dismounted, extending his hand to her and Emery took it without hesitation, getting off the Titan with ease.

"Oh wow…" Her legs were trembling from the vibrations of the Titan and smiled, sky blues sparkling up at him. "So what do you think? You can leave it here, you know, when we come back here so you have a motorcycle to ride around the area. Only if you want though." She wouldn't mind if he took it back to Texas to put with his collection.

"Can I move into your garage?" He asked sweetly, grinning at the look on Emery's face. It was a garage, but it was clean, orderly and he got the impression she spent very little time out there. Made sense, she had her video games, computer, writing… "Come on, darlin', we'll put my dresser out there. I'll bring some of my tools and chests." He was picking on her, but he couldn't tell if she knew that or not. "Emery?"

She couldn't keep a straight face any longer and burst out laughing, shaking her head at him. "Sure, sure you can have the garage. By all means, I don't use it anyway. Though, I wouldn't recommend putting your dresser out here." When he asked why, she smirked with wicked sky blues. "Well, unless you want lizards and other creatures, like scorpions, in your stuff…by all means. I'll leave that decision up to you though." Smacking his chest playfully, she walked past him into the house to take her boots off…and try to get the trembling in her thighs to go away.

Not bothered in the least by the thought of scorpions, Texas had at least eighteen different species. Mark was used to those creepy crawlies. He eyeballed the garage, taking note of what he would change and had to shake his head when he realized he was mentally planning this as his. Snorting, he followed her inside, planning on keeping those thighs of hers trembling with him between them.

Just as she slid the jeans off and kicked them to the side, Mark made his presence felt, but didn't make a grab for her. She had red cotton panties on with the red tank top and a red bra beneath. It was going on 10 PM and they had to get some sleep for tomorrow's traveling. She'd taken her hair out of the braid it was in, so it was somewhat crimped while she pulled the blanket back on the bed. Feeling eyes on her, Emery looked up and smiled at the sight of him standing in her doorway.

"We need to get some sleep since we have to be up at 5 AM." The flight left at 8 AM, so they would have exactly one hour to get to the airport in order to go through security.

"You'll sleep on the plane." He enlightened her, his voice dropping to a dark timbre and reached out, gripping her by the waist lifting her up, feeling Emery automatically encircle her legs around him. "You'll also sleep very, very well." Mark promised, capturing her lips with his.

If there was one man on the planet she'd want to acquiescent to in every way – heart, mind, body and soul – it was Mark Calaway.

Then, now and forever.

The End.

 ****Thank you everyone who enjoyed and reviewed this story! A couple things I want to pinpoint on - Matthew left the company, so in a way Emery did win and get her revenge that way. As far as Batista goes, she gained her revenge through him with the fight at Backlash, so that was closed, as far as I'm concerned. Sometimes, revenge isn't received the way you want it, but she did get it regardless by having that puke run from the company like a coward. Again, thank you for all the reviews - I love you all and will be posting a new story soon!****


End file.
